Faithless Vengeance
by LuluLemone
Summary: Archie had no idea what he would bring about when he went to the Southside with his buddies that night. The Serpent Prince doesn't forgive...and he knows how to hit where it hurts. Bughead.
1. Chapter 1

**Faithless Vengeance**

**Author's Note : **Okay, I know it is usually not a good idea to have two stories going at once, but I couldn't resist. This has been rattling around in my brain and I needed to put it out there. WARNING : This is a mature story. It will involve sexual situations, adult language, violence and all those fun things. The characters will be significantly OOC due to the nature of the plot. I will try to keep their responses as close to character as I can, but like I said, the very nature of this story is OOC. I want to state, if actual life, I am very against infidelity of any kind. I do however love the idea of two people being so drawn to one another that they don't seem to have any choice but to seek each other out. This is evident I think in my other story, Any Way But Down. That said, there will be cheating in this story. Know that going in. It is for entertainment purposes and I ask that you don't judge my morality based on fiction. Anyway, here is goes…

Chapter One Song Choice : "About to Get Crazy" by Oh The Larceny

**Disclaimer **: Don't own em. Just love em.

**Chapter One : **

If there was one thing that the residents of Riverdale's Southside hated, it was the sense of smug entitlement that seemed to come off of the Northside residents in droves. A group of just such self-important pricks chose one chilly fall night to saunter into the Southside's best watering hole, The Whyte Wyrm.

Sweet Pea clocked them as soon as they came swaggering across the threshold. There were six of them; jocks, the total package complete with letterman jackets and all. They were boisterous and loud, slapping each others' shoulders and laughing their way to the pool tables in the far corner of the bar nearest the stage. The Wyrm was notorious for not carding so it tended to draw in the slightly underage crowd. Mainly it was a hangout for the Southside Serpents who attended Southside High to drink and carouse with the older members of their gang. The bar was owned by FP Jones, the leader of the serpents, their King so to speak. Because of their lax policies, every once in a while, some 'daring' Northsiders from Riverdale High would venture to the bar in groups to drink and party and pretend that they were big and bad.

For the most part, the Serpents let them be. The money that they dropped in the bar was welcome and the obnoxious teenagers themselves were merely a mild but tolerable annoyance.

Then, there were groups like these assholes. Football players, if Sweet Pea had to hazard a guess. The Bulldogs of Riverdale were a special brand of jackass. He thunked his beer down on the bartop, arched an eyebrow at Toni Topaz, who was on shift behind the bar and headed back to the backroom, tapping three times before entering.

The backroom was off-limits to the patrons of the bar with the exception of the Serpents. It had two leather sofas, a big-screen tv and private bathroom. Currently, the only occupants on the room were FP's son, the heir apparent of the gang, the Serpent Prince, Jughead Jones. Perched on his lap was Evelyn Evernever, one of the Serpents' hangers on. She was leaned forward, nibbling on Jughead's neck.

Jughead glanced up at Sweet Pea, only appearing mildly annoyed at the interruption, "What's up?"

"Thought you'd wanna know a group of Northside Bulldogs just swarmed the bar."

Jug eased Evelyn off of his lap and stood, "Are they causing problems?"

"Not yet," Sweet Pea said, "but you know how those assholes are."

"I do." Jughead pulled his jacket on and started for the door.

"Seriously, Jug?" Evelyn huffed.

Jughead didn't even glance back, "Seriously."

Sweet Pea wanted to laugh but held it in. Why did they always expect something different from the Prince? It was almost sad. Almost.

Sweet Pea followed Jughead back into the main room and over to the bar. The Prince leaned onto a stool and lit a cigarette as Toni slid a beer in front of him. "What are they drinking, Toni?" Jughead asked her.

"What do you think?" Toni replied, "Pitchers of the cheapest beer all around. Their goal is to get blitzed."

"They looking for anything other than a buzz?"

"Couple of catcalls when Lilah was onstage, but so far they've more or less behaved."

Even as they spoke, one of the six jackasses swayed over and slapped a twenty-dollar bill down on the bar, "Hey, sexy!"

Toni rolled her eyes but turned to him. He was dark haired and probably considered attractive, though he was wasting his breath on Toni. She liked to dabble with boys every once in a blue moon, but she stuck with Serpents, usually Jughead or Sweet Pea. They were the devils she knew.

"What can I get for you, Cheeks?" she asked.

"Name's Reggie, baby," he said with a smirk.

"Didn't ask your name," Toni smiled, "Asked for your order."

"Feisty!" Reggie said, "I like it."

"Still waiting on that order," Toni said.

Jughead laughed into his beer bottle as he took a swig.

"Two pitchers of Budweiser gorgeous and uh…how about you come over and join us?"

"Apparently your astute powers of observation missed that fact that I'm working," Toni replied as she slid a pitcher beneath a tap to pull the beer.

"Well, why don't you come _work _a little closer to me and my boys?" Reggie said, his dark eyes traveling the length of Toni's petite, compact little body, "I'm sure we can make it worth your while."

Toni's efficient movements stilled and Jughead recognized the danger in the narrowed slits of her eyes. Another problem that all of the Northside assholes seemed to share; they thought that any girl from the Southside was for sale.

Toni spun in the heel of her stiletto boot, pink locks slinging over her shoulder, and cocked a hip to the side, "You care to explain that comment, asshole?"

To his credit, the overblown steroid pumped meathead recognized his mistake almost immediately and began backpedaling. "No insult intended, gorgeous. Just meant that we'd see to it that you had fun."

Toni thunked his two pitchers down on the bar top and snatched up his twenty and then glared at him until he ran off without collecting the change he was owed. When she turned to Jug, he didn't even try to disguise his smile. "What are you laughing at, Jonesy?"

"That's one way to get tips," Jughead set his beer down, "Always a joy to watch you put some poor unsuspecting schmuck in his place. Warms my heart."

"Warms something of mine, too!" Sweet Pea grinned.

"Yeah, yeah," Toni groaned, but she was smiling back at him, "Shut it, Pea."

Archie Andrews took a long pull from his beer glass and watched as Moose Mason lined up a shot on the five-ball at the corner pocket. At the stage to his side, a half naked blonde slid down a metal pole and teased a few bills from Chuck Clayton and Reggie Mantle. At the same time, Archie passed a weary eye over to the bar where a couple of leather clad serpent members were watching them. This was the third or fourth time that he and his buddies had come to the Whyte Wyrm and every time, Archie felt like they were watched like…prey.

They had never been hassled or bothered or anything like that, but there was always just a feeling of tension that he noticed passing between his crew and the gang that called the bar their headquarters. Maybe it was all in his head. Reggie never said anything about. Neither did Moose or Chuck.

Reggie let out a loud "Whoop" and poured another round of drinks for everyone. Archie shook away the feeling of being watched and chugged the beer that Reggie had thrust into his hand.

Jughead sat silent at the bar, nursing a single beer and watching the band of Northside douchebags as they laughed, catcalled and drank. The more alcohol they poured down their throats, the louder and more obnoxious they became. Jughead could sense Toni and Sweet Pea off to his side, watching him as he watched them. It was no secret that he didn't care for the Northsiders who came "slumming" on the Southside to drink and show what big men they were. He hated it, but he couldn't do a damn thing about it as long as they paid their tab at the end of the night…which they always did.

Maybe he decided he couldn't take it anymore. Maybe there was something in the air. Maybe he was just bored. Whatever the reason, Jughead decided that he wanted to stir up a little trouble. He took the final pull of his beer and slapped the empty bottle down on the bar before standing from his perch.

"Jonesy," he heard the warning in Toni's voice, "I know that look…"

Jughead chose to pretend he hadn't heard her and headed over toward the billiards tables. He wouldn't engage directly. At least not unless they did so first. But he knew just the place to strike the most effective if indirect blow.

Their overblown Northside egos.

He slipped past where they were racking the balls for a fresh game and leaned a hip against the stage where Daphne was performing. The thing about being the Serpent Prince was that most of the females who gravitated around the gang wanted his attention. It didn't hurt that he was six foot tall, dark and easy on the eyes. He had no delusions about his looks. He knew he had a pretty face. It was something that he'd never hesitated to use to his advantage when necessary.

Sure enough, as soon as he leaned a hip against the stage, Daphne abandoned the Northsiders she'd been dancing for and was in front of him, on her knees, sliding long, slim fingers up the nape of his neck.

The Northsider didn't take too kindly to that…naturally.

"Hey, asshole," the same dark haired meathead that had been harassing Toni called, "quit hogging the action."

Jughead didn't even try to suppress his grin. Instead, he leaned a little bit more into Daphne's attentions.

Like clockwork, the Northsider came swaggering over toward him. Sweet Pea had trailed just behind Jughead when he had crossed the bar, like a shark scenting the potential for blood in the water. At the Northsider's bluster, he and several other serpents straightened and took notice.

"Hey, asshole," the muscle bound oaf bellowed, "why don't you back the hell off and make a little room for the paying customers?"

"Ah, you're right, I'm sorry," Jughead said on a smirk, "I should have a little more consideration for poor assholes that have to pay for pussy."

FP Jones, the Serpent King himself, emerged from his office just in time to watch the Northsider throw a punch at his son's head. Jughead snapped back with a solid left hook. And just like that, the Northsiders dropped their beers, serpents all around the bar kicked away from their stools and it became a full out brawl. Emptying the air from his lungs in exasperation, FP muttered two simple words, "Dammit, Jug."

Jughead was damn near giddy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a good, honest-to-God fight. He had just slammed the dark haired Northsider's face into his knee when something unexpected happened.

A sharp crack sounded through the chaos and he lost vision for an instant. When his sight returned, he was on the ground. How the hell had that happened? Everything came back into focus; it was as though someone had hit a pause button on the fight and the red-headed Northsider who had more or less been quiet was standing over him, holding the broken end of a pool cue.

The son of a bitch had brained him with a poolstick!

"Whoa, Andrews," one of his friends said at the same time another said, "Holy shit, Archie."

_Archie Andrews. _

Jughead locked the name away in the steel trap of his mind as he staggered to his feet and touched a hand to the back of his head just under the material of his gray beanie. It came away with a smear of bright red blood. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits and landed on the redhead.

He had just moved to launch himself at the dumbass kid when he felt two arms band around his torso to hold him back, pinning his arms to his sides in the process.

"That's it, dammit!" his father's familiar voice roared, "Party's over kids. Find someone sober to drive your asses home. You can come back when you've all slept it off. For now, beat it!"

"This ain't over, Red!" Jughead hissed.

"Shut up, Jug," his dad growled, still holding him.

The gang of Bulldogs flooded from the building, still full of piss and vinegar.

"I swear, those Serpent dicks are asking for it!" Reggie spat the words at the same time he spat a mouthful of blood and possibly a back molar, courtesy of the Serpent Prince's knee.

Reggie unlocked his car and the friends started to pile in when the door to the Whyte Wyrm opened and the Serpent Prince flanked by two other gang members emerged to watch them leave the premises.

Archie made eyes contact with the tall serpent royal and felt a swirling of anger in the pit of his stomach. He thought about every time he had sat in that bar and felt like a target. His hands curled into fists and before he could stop himself, he stalked over to a row of motorcycles. He spotted one that had a helmet balanced on the seat with a chalk outline of a crown. Everyone knew that that was Jughead's symbol. Not once breaking eye contact with the Southside Prince, Archie place a sneaker covered foot on the bike and pushed with all his might.

The bike toppled over into the row, taking out at least seven more motorcycles with it. They crashed to the ground, metal scraping against concrete, headlights and taillights shattering into dust.

The other two serpents caught hold of Jughead by the arms to hold him back as Archie climbed into the car with his cheering buddies before they sped off into the night.

Once their taillights had disappeared, Sweet Pea and Fangs released their hold on Jughead. He stared into the distance.

_Archie Andrews, _Jughead thought, _you have no idea what you've just done._

**Author's Note : **And there it is. The beginning of my new story. This one is gonna be a little different than the other, obviously. But I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think of Archie and Jug so far!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note** : Aaaaaaannnnnddddd Chapter 2! I am enjoying this story. And I already have thoughts for another that I am convincing myself not to start. Anyways! Here's Betty! Be sure to let me know what you think!

**Chapter Two Song Choice : "Top of the World" by Imagine Dragons**

**Chapter Two :**

"So, do you know what that idiot boyfriend of yours was up to last night when he left you all by your lonesome on a Friday?"

"Cheryl," Betty Cooper said into her cell-phone, rolling her eyes a little at the same old conversation she and Cheryl Blossom always seemed to circle around to.

"Is it my fault that I don't think that ginger jockstrap is nearly good enough for my sweet cousin?" Cheryl went one, ignoring the censure in Betty's tone.

Betty smiled. Cheryl had her faults, but when it came down to it, she'd walk through fire for Betty. That didn't mean she would dignify the 'not good enough' remark with a response.

Instead she said, "You don't think anyone is good enough for me."

"True." Cheryl replied, "So where was he?"

"He was having a boys' night with some guys from the team."

"In other words," Cheryl translated, "they dragged their sorry selves over to the South Side with the sole purpose of getting shitfaced."

"Cheryl…"

"You know he does it! Not everyone is as innocent as you, sweet Betty."

"And not everyone is the devil like you think they are."

"Not everyone," Cheryl conceded, "but most!"

At the bold and generalized comment, Betty couldn't help but laugh. She took true delight in her cousin. Cheryl was not the type to see the good in everyone. Cheryl was the type to shoot first and answer questions only if tortured. She was very protective of the people that she cared about and to hell with everyone who fell outside of that category. Archie fell decidedly outside of that category. Betty had a theory on that. She thought on it in that moment as she looked out her bedroom window, across the yard and into Archie's darkened, empty room.

Archie had moved next door to her when they had been only five years old. The two had become fast friends. Slightly older, exceedingly protective five and half year old Cheryl had not taken kindly to having her beloved cousin's attention divided and disliked Archie immediately. The dislike only seemed to grow when they had all turned eleven and Archie had bestowed Betty with her first kiss. It was chaste, quick, and sweet; little more than a touching of puckered lips. But it had really been that moment that Cheryl had decided Archie was public enemy number one, as she had seen Archie kiss Josie McCoy the previous week at the swing set in the park.

"You're ridiculous." Betty told Cheryl in the present.

"And you love me for it!" Cheryl chimed, "Are you almost ready? I'm pulling onto your street now."

Betty straightened the gold bow in her hair and ran a hand down the pleated skirt of her uniform, "Yep. I'll meet you at the street."

With that, she disconnected the call and swiped some 'Pink Perfection' gloss over her lips. 'Perfection.' It was the ultimate goal, the ultimate expectation. It was how it was meant to be in her world. She stared at herself for a long beat in the mirror before letting out a heavy, almost exhausted sigh and grabbing her bag to scurry down the stairs.

"Mom, Dad," she called, "I'm going!"

"Have fun at the pep rally, honey!" Alice Cooper called from the kitchen.

Hal peered around his paper from the sofa at her, "Will you be late, sweetie?"

"I don't know. Cheryl is driving which is always an adventure," She grinned and watched her father roll his eyes.

"That girl is gonna drive Clifford into an early grave."

"I don't think she does it on purpose." Betty said.

Her father raised an eyebrow making Betty laugh.

"Okay, maybe a little she does, but that's just Cheryl. We'll probably go grab milkshakes at Pop's afterwards. You know they love to mooch off my employee discount. I gotta go! We still have to pick up V! Love you!"

"Have a good time, honey, we know you'll be perfect," Hal turned his attention back to his paper, missing the subtle twitch in his daughter's expression, "Call if you're gonna be out too late."

"Will do!"

Betty appreciated the trust her parents had in her. She was the youngest of three and the only child still living at home. Her older brother Chic had just graduated college and was working as an engineer in New York and Polly, her older sister was away at Berkley on the other side of the country. That left only Betty to take on all of her parents' attention. However, she had always been the good kid. Chic had been the stereotypical jock, partying with teammates and sleeping around…which to Betty's disgust was met with the whole 'boys will be boys' mentality. But she loved her brother and to be fair, he had never gotten into serious trouble. Polly too had been a party girl. She and her mother had clashed ideologies on several occasions and Betty had always played peacekeeper.

Betty had also always done her homework; she was a straight A student on the honor roll, editor of the school paper, cheerleader, debate team member, student body president and had a perfect attendance record at school. Her parents had bought her a car for her sixteenth birthday, so on the weekends she waited tables at Pop's to pay for gas and the insurance. She prided herself on being responsible; and along with that inherent responsibility came her parents' unfaltering trust. With that trust came an underlying expectation of perfection that Betty was determined to uphold. She didn't want to ever let her parents down.

As Betty rushed down the stone steps in front of her house, she couldn't stop the hysterical laughter that bubbled from her throat at the sight of Cheryl pulling up to the curb in her twin bother's cherry red convertible…with the top down.

"You're insane!" Betty bellowed, climbing into the front seat, "It's like twenty degrees out. It's going to rain at any second. Why do you have the top down?"

"Have to take advantage when I can!" Cheryl chimed, pushing the gas and taking off down the road, "JJ doesn't let me drive this baby very often!"

"It's freezing, Cheryl!"

"Oh, poo!" Cheryl spat.

If Betty were inherently responsible, Cheryl prided herself on recklessness. Betty was the voice of reason to Cheryl's constant need for a little chaos. The two balanced each other out well.

They pulled up outside the Pembrooke where the Lodges' penthouse apartment was housed in time to see Veronica Lodge come bopping through the door. She grinded to a halt at the sight of the car.

"We're going to freeze to death," was all she said.

Betty turned to stare at Cheryl, who then rolled her eyes and hit the button on the automatic top.

"Fine!" she snarled as Betty sat forward to let Veronica into the backseat, "You're both babies."

"Betty's lips are blue." Veronica said.

Cheryl glared, "Why do you think I'm actually putting the top up?"

"Ah, Cher," Betty smiled, "you really do care."

"Shut your face, blondie."

"I love you, too."

Veronica chuckled from the backseat, "I don't know how I ever lived without you two."

Veronica had moved to Riverdale two years previous in their sophomore year, the piece to Betty and Cheryl's puzzle that they hadn't even realized they were missing. A perfect blend of personality, Veronica was able to see the good in people like Betty but also shared a little more of the daring nature that Cheryl possessed. She had met Betty first when Betty had been assigned to give her a school tour. Their connection had been instant and from that point on, Veronica hadn't been willing to leave Betty's side.

Cheryl, on the other hand, had not taken to Veronica quite as willingly. As had been established since they were children, she had never like sharing her cousin's attention. The tension between them had started to strain Betty however, and Veronica had simply offered to take Cheryl to lunch one day. At that fateful lunch, the two had discussed their similar family lives, their love for adventure, shopping and all things new. And of course, their love for Betty. It was that day that they truly became the triad of power that everyone knew them to be : B, V and Cher.

Betty held her fingers in front of the heater, tying to get some feeling back in them as Cheryl guided the car into a parking spot in the school lot. 5:45 pm and the sky had already darkened to a hazy blue. The three girls clambered out of the warm vehicle and made a mad dash for the double-door entrance of the gymnasium. It was the first pep rally for the start of the basketball season. The entire student body of Riverdale High crowded onto the bleachers of the gym to stomp and clap and cheer as Cheryl led the River Vixens in chanting and dancing.

Betty scanned the sea of familiar faces lining the bleachers, but failed to find the one she was looking for. She leaned toward Veronica.

"Where's Kevin?" she whispered.

Veronica's perfect brow scrunched as her own eyes darted through the crowd, "Dunno. He should be here."

The girls ceased their search as Principal Weatherbee began introducing the young men who had made the cut for the Riverdale Bulldogs' basketball team. Betty beamed from ear to ear when Archie managed to catch her eye and give her a little wave from his place in line.

"And your captain," Principal Weatherbee bellowed, "Archie Andrews!"

The applause was shattering. Archie ran up onto the stage, that boyish smile on his face as he gave the crowd a larger wave than the one he had given just for Betty and then joined his teammates in the line behind the principal and Coach Clayton. He looked over and winked at Betty, making her cheeks flush red and Cheryl roll her eyes.

"Subtle, Cher-bear. Real subtle." Veronica whispered, nudging Cheryl with an elbow.

"He's a dumbass, Ronnie," Cheryl hissed back, "You know it. I know it. Hell, half the town knows it but he can dribble a ball and make a touchdown, so they all pretend he's God's gift."

"Betts loves him, Cher."

"Betts is too damn kind for her own good."

"Cheryl…"

"He doesn't treat her right," Cherly said and fixed Veronica with a look that declared the conversation over as the team stripped from their warm up gear to run a few plays and tricks for the cheering attendees.

When the pep rally/exhibition had concluded, Chuck Clayton emerged from a steaming shower in the locker room, "So, Andrews, you tapped that golden pussy yet?"

Archie tried to look irate, but ended up smiling, "I'm not sure how I feel about you referring to my girlfriend as the 'golden pussy.'"

"You love it," Reggie Mantle chimed, then turned to Chuck, "and that's a no, by the way."

"Boy," Chuck said, rolling on deodorant in front of his open locker, "I don't know how you hold back. I'd kill to go Neil Armstrong and be the first to plant my flag in that bitch."

Across the room, Jason Blossom cleared his throat, "Um, can we not call my cousin a bitch?"

Archie grabbed his bag and slapped Chuck on the shoulder as he walked by, "Sorry, dude. The territory has been claimed."

Archie, Reggie and Jason left the locker room together where Archie immediately spotted Betty standing near the double doors of the gym. She was laughing and talking with Cheryl and Veronica. Seeing her in moments like that always caught him a little off guard. She was so pretty, so pure, so perfect. And by God, she was his. He had always known she would be. Since they were just little and he saw the way people gravitated toward her pretty smile and shiny hair, he had decided that she was someone he would always want around. He picked up his pace to a jog to reach her. He caught her around the waist from behind and spun her around as she squealed.

"Hey, Babe," he grinned when he set her back down, but didn't release his hold on her, scanning her from head to toe with his eyes, "Guys, look how perfect my girl is. Where are you girls headed?"

Cheryl barely tried to hide her look of disgust. Another mark against Archie Andrews in her book, he was too handsy. He always had to be touching B, as though marking his property. Betty was not fucking property.

"Um," Betty cast a look at her friends, "Pop's, I think."

"Mind company?"

"Yes." Cheryl said at the same time Betty and Veronica replied, "Of course, not."

"Did you take care of Mystique?" Jason asked Cheryl.

"Mystique?" Veronica said, to which Cheryl gave a ridiculous grin and nodded in delight. Veronica turned her eyes back to Cheryl's twin, "This is me silently judging you…quite viciously right now."

"You can judge me any day, Lodge!"

"In your misogynistic dreams, Mantle!"

"God, you're hot."

"God, you're dumb."

"And on that note," Betty jumped in to stop the bloodshed, "let's go to Pop's!"

Archie slid two fingers under the edge of her uniform to touch the smooth skin at her side, "You wanna ride with me in Reggie's car?"

When he did things like that, especially in public, it always made Betty just a little uncomfortable and she had to fight to urge to twist away from his touch. She didn't know why it made her feel like that. She had seen other couples behaving in a much more risqué manner but something about it always felt wrong to Betty.

"Sorry, Archibald," Cheryl intervened before Betty could answer, "Cousin Betty has been entrusted into my capable hands tonight."

She slid in between the two, dislodging Archie's arm from around Betty's waist at the same time she looped her own arm through Betty's, smiling the world's brightest smile at Archie, "We'll see you at Pop's."

Without waiting for a response, she dragged Betty away from the group. Veronica quirked an eyebrow at the boys and then followed.

If Cheryl was loud, opinionated and outgoing, Jason was nearly the complete opposite. He was reserved and somewhat shy, only really coming out of his shell when it came to athletics. However, he had a quiet kind of authority about him. So it really came as no surprise when he gently but firmly relieved Cheryl of the keys to his car and drove the girls to Pop's himself. With him behind the wheel of the powerful car, they left Reggie's suped up phallic symbol in the dust and beat the boys there by a good twenty minutes.

As soon as the foursome entered the restaurant, Betty spotted Kevin sitting in the far corner booth with a long-haired, leather jacket clad cutie with piercing eyes. She glanced at Cheryl and Veronica to see if they had seen him as well. The grin and arched brown on Veronica's face and Cheryl's cat that ate the cream smile told her that they had indeed.

"Well," Cheryl said as Jason drifted to the counter to shout to Pop's that they were going to grab one of the larger booths, "do we all attack at once or do we send Betty as emissary? "

"Cher," Betty said, "he's obviously on a date."

"Exactly." Cheryl said, crossing her arms over her chest, "Did you hear anything about this date?"

"Well, no, but…"

"V?"

"Nope." Veronica answered.

"So, he's hiding this boy from us and I, for one, object to the blatant and intentional omission."

Betty couldn't suppress her smile, "You will never cease to fascinate me."

"I know, cousin." Cheryl said, "And because you have the heart of gold amongst the three of us, we'll allow you to go and ease the waters before we all pounce on Kevin and his, if I do say so myself, yummy snack."

More for the preservation of Kevin's hide, and perhaps a healthy dose of friendly nosiness, Betty broke away from her girlfriends to "fire the warning shot."

"Hey, Kev!" Betty said, her ponytail bouncing as she reached the table. She stumbled over her next words as Kevin's date leaned forward, revealing the bright green snake embroidered on the back of his jacket. Her eyes widened, "Wha…whatcha doing?"

Kevin was on a date with a Southside Serpent! Cheryl and V would _love _this!

"Hey, Betty," Kevin said, not a touch thrown off. Cheryl was wrong. The omission hadn't been intentional. Betty didn't know why he hadn't mentioned the date, but he wasn't hiding anything. "This is Joaquin. Joaquin, this is Betty."

Joaquin gave her nod of his chin as he leaned back on his seat, dropped an around along the back of the booth, and as such, around Kevin's shoulders.

"How was the pep rally?" Kevin asked.

"Same as it always is," Betty grinned, "Peppy. You know I came to warn you, right?"

"How long do I have before she descends?"

"Time's up!" Cheryl announced, appearing as if by witchery at Betty's side causing her cousin to jump slightly.

"How do you even do that?" Betty asked, turning to her.

Instead of answering, Cheryl slid into the booth across from Kevin and his date. "Cheryl Blossom: resident Riverdale 'it' girl. And you are?"

Kevin let out a long-suffering sigh, "Cheryl, this is Joaquin."

Cheryl did not get to really lay into her interrogation though as Veronica's call came just a split second later from the other side of the diner, "Cher! B! The guys are here! Come order! Hi, Kevin! He's cute!"

"My, God," Kevin groaned, letting his face fall into his hands.

Joaquin grinned, "What? I am cute."

Kevin grinned, "You are."

Cheryl fixed Kevin with a steely glare, "This is not over, Keller."

"Riveted with anticipation," Kevin retorted, unblinking.

Betty just smiled and gave a little wave as Cheryl led her away to where they were met at the halfway point by Archie.

"Holy shit," Joaquin breathed.

Confused, Kevin turned to this beautiful man he had met two days previous at the Twilight Drive-In concession stand, "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," Joaquin replied quickly, but even as he spoke, he was punching out a lightening fast text message to someone on his phone.

**Author's Note** : And that's it for now. Bit of a slow burn, I know, but once it starts burning, I promise it will be an inferno! What do you think of Cheryl and Betty? I always love the little moments in the show that reveal Cheryl for the softy I know she is inside. I decided to take that idea and run with it. I know there is a lot of exposition in this chapter, but I have to set things up! Please let me know what you think! I thrive on any feedback you are willing to give me. It help motivate me for the next installment. Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note : Here's the next chapter! I am digging this story. I like exploring the dynamic with these characters! Guess who's about to meeeeetttt….

Disclaimer : Don't own em. Like em a lot.

Chapter Three Song Choice : "Powerful" by Major Lazer ft. Ellie Goulding & Tarrus Riley

Chapter Three

"Oh, my God, B!" Veronica laughed over her chocolate shake, "I have never seen anyone as terrified as you to cradle out of a lift!"

Betty could actually feel it as her cheeks turned bright red, "I'm not exactly little and petite like you, V."

Cheryl slapped a palm to the table in humored annoyance, "It's not like you're a heifer, woman!"

"I know-"

"Hey!" Archie interrupted, "My girl's got curves! Nothing wrong with that!"

"Not a damn thing!" Chuck concurred, his dark eyes trailing over Betty in a way that made her want to collapse in on herself like a scared turtle.

Cheryl wanted to slap both him and Archie across their faces when she saw the discomfort in Betty's expression.

As Archie spoke, he slid his hand a little higher up Betty's bare thigh to just under the hem of her skirt. Betty instinctively clamped her legs together and with as much discretion as she could, she dropped a hand to her lap to block his path. Archie cast her an irritated sideways look but Betty refused to acknowledge it. She didn't know why he always did this kind of thing when they were out with their friends. Sometimes it felt like he wanted them to see him; like he wanted to show off in some way. If he tried it when they were alone, she was able to have an actual conversation with him and explain that she just wasn't ready for that kind of physical intimacy. But when he did it in public, she couldn't say anything. She'd never make a scene like that. So it became a kind of silent battle; him always pushing and trying to advance and her on defense trying to subtly hold her ground.

"Okay, boys," Reggie announced sliding out of the booth, "let's roll. I gotta work with dad at the dealership tomorrow and he gets pissed when I drag ass."

Archie pressed a kiss to Betty's temple before sliding out of the booth as well. The entire crew followed suit, scooting and shuffling and shimmying their way out of the booth to pay their checks and head out. As they exited, Betty touched Veronica's elbow at the door.

"I'm gonna say goodbye to Kevin and…apologize for Cheryl. I'll be out in two seconds."

Veronica nodded and went to let the others know.

Betty approached the table where Joaquin and Kevin had their heads bent close together in conversation. Betty felt a little guilty interrupting.

"Hey, Kev," she said as softly as she could.

Kevin jumped, knocking over his soda in surprise.

"I'm so sorry!" Betty exclaimed as she grabbed at napkins along with Joaquin and Kevin to mop up the spill even as it dripped off the table into the floor. "I didn't mean to startle you! I just came over to let you know we were leaving and to say sorry for Cheryl being…well, Cheryl."

Kevin laughed, his good nature shining even as he wiped at the table, "I'm used to it by now, Betts."

"I know but-"

"You're leaving?" Joaquin interrupted, "All of you?"

He earned a confused look from both Kevin and Betty at the question.

"Uh, yeah." Betty said, she didn't notice the nearing rumble of motorcycle engines.

"You can't stick around a little longer?" Joaquin continued, craning his neck to peer around her as though looking for someone.

"No. Jason and Cheryl are waiting for me. The others are already gone." Betty explained gesturing toward the door right about the second it swung open.

As soon as he had received the text from Joaquin, Jughead had mounted up with Fangs and Sweet Pea in tow and headed for the Northside of Riverdale. But when he entered the cozy, retro diner and scanned the occupants, he didn't see the redheaded asshole from the Wyrm. What he did see was Joaquin nestled in a booth with his squeeze of the week and talking to a Northside cheerleader princess. Jughead crossed the diner to join them.

"Hey, Joaq," he said.

Betty moved to turn toward the unfamiliar voice but her foot slipped in the puddle of Kevin's spilled soda and both feet slipped out from under her.

With the very catlike reflexes that tended to be his saving grace in a brawl, Jughead reached out and caught the blonde by her waist and steadied her on her feet. Her hands caught hold of his biceps and then a pair of big green eyes swept up to meet his. Even after she had regained her balance, Jug didn't release her. Nor did she drop her hands. Jughead watched as her eyes traced over every aspect of his face. It was an assessment that he'd been on the receiving end of before. Under normal circumstances, he would have found her blatant admiration amusing…only he was a little busy doing some admiring of his own.

By God, she was fucking gorgeous.

"Easy there," he said, giving her a little half-smirk.

"Yeah," she gave a little laugh under her breath, "you know after ten plus years of mandatory dance lessons, you'd think I'd be more coordinated."

Jughead let his eyes trail with deliberate slowness over her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes, lingering over the good parts before again meeting her eyes, "Oh, I don't know. I'd bet you do pretty well when it counts."

Betty felt her cheeks flush, her breathing became unsteady and an unfamiliar heat pooled in the pit of her stomach. He may have been the most beautiful male specimen she had ever laid eyes on. _Ever. _His hands were large and warm as they gave her waist a gentle, inviting squeeze…and Betty didn't feel the immediate need to squirm away. She could tell by the jacket that he was a serpent, like Joaquin. That made sense. They had come straight over to him and Kevin's booth. He looked gorgeous and dangerous and exciting and everything that Betty had always tried to avoid. But in that moment, staring into his piercing green eyes, she asked herself why she had ever wanted to avoid something that could feel like this.

The loud blaring of a car horn interrupted the moment and Betty tried to take a step back, but her leather-clad savior didn't release his grip on her.

"Ooookay," Betty said, her voice uneven, "Kev, I'll see you Monday. We'll…talk then. Joaquin, it was so nice to meet you. And…" she turned to the dark-haired stranger, "thanks for catching me."

His eyes burning, he replied, "Pleasure."

The way he had said the word 'pleasure' seemed to roll across Betty's skin in a far too intimate caress from someone whose name she didn't even know. He was breathtaking, though; carrying himself with the ease and confidence of a young god. He tightened his hold on her, pulling her hips snug against his own for the briefest second before releasing her. Betty moved to step around him, to put some much needed distance between his fantastic body and hers, but before she could stop herself, she turned and blurted, "Come in sometime when I'm working. I'll give you a milkshake on the house, you know, for saving me from falling on my face."

Feeling the tips of her ears heat up at the impromptu offer, she spun away from him and made a mad dash for the door. What had she been thinking to make an offer like that?

Easy. She was thinking she wanted to see those eyes again.

Jughead watched the blonde scamper to the door, throwing him a blushing look over her shoulder while chewing on the tip of her thumbnail. He'd gladly give her something to chew on a hell of a lot more fun than her thumb. Christ.

Once she was through the exit, he slid into Joaquin's booth without waiting for an invite and focused on his friend's date, thoughts of a different kind of tussle were running through his brain than what had been there earlier in the night.

"Okay, Keller," he said, "I don't usually go for Northsiders, but I'm gonna need _her _name and number-like-immediately."

"Betty?" Kevin sputtered, "No!"

Jughead arched a dark brow, "No?"

"No!" Kevin spat again, then noticed the four faces that were staring at him in incredulous disbelief. Apparently, one did not say 'no' to the Serpent Prince. "I mean, it's nothing personal. I just don't give out my friends' numbers without their permission."

Another rather sardonic look from the dark Adonis known as Jughead.

"It wouldn't do you any good anyway," Kevin added, "She and Archie have been together practically since birth."

"Say again," Sweet Pea chimed from over Jughead's shoulder where he was kneeling on the seat of the next booth over.

Jughead's eyes glittered with a dangerous interest as well, "Archie…Andrews?"

Kevin looked at the people surrounding him and tried to shake the feeling of dread and inevitability that had all of the sudden washed over him, "Uh, yeah, Archie Andrews. Why?"

"No reason," Jughead answered, ignoring the knowing look that he caught Fangs throwing at Sweet Pea. "You're probably right. If she has a boyfriend, waste of my time."

Kevin nodded but still didn't feel any better. Something about Jughead's tone of voice, the glint in his eye, the tilt of his smirk; all those things came together and told Kevin that this was far from over…and he worried that his sweet, somewhat naïve Betty had just slipped in a puddle of soda and unknowingly landed in a whole heap of trouble.

"Let's head out, boys," Jughead said, slapping a palm flat against the tabletop and standing, "You fellas have a good night. Joaq, we'll see you back at the Wyrm."

"See ya, boss," Joaquin said as Fangs, Sweet Pea and Jughead filed out, Sweet Pea slapping Jughead jovially on the back as they went.

"What was that?" Kevin asked.

"What?" Joaquin replied, widening his pretty eyes in mock innocence.

"That-that-that," why the hell couldn't he find the right word, "display! What just happened?"

"Nothing, Preppy," Joaquin said, trailing a finger down Kevin's jawline, "Don't worry about it."

Jughead lit up a cigarette as he crossed the parking lot toward his bike. Sweet Pea gave his shoulder blade another excited shove.

"So, blondie, huh?" Sweet Pea laughed.

Jughead smirked over his shoulder, "Best looking payback I ever saw."

"You're serious?" Fangs asked from where he trailed a few steps behind his friends.

"What am I always saying, Fangs?" Jughead schooled, "What is the most effective point of attack against these arrogant Northside pricks?"

Fangs shrugged his shoulders and looked away, so Sweet Pea bellowed out the answer as he strode up to the side of his motorcycle.

"Their motherfuckin' pride!"

"Exactly," Jughead said on a stream of smoke as he kicked a leg up to straddle his own bike. "Picture it, Fangs." Jughead's eyes narrowed he pointed a finger to his own temple, "Just take a second to picture it. How do you think that self-important philistine will feel when he learns that his perfect little Northside princess spread her legs for a piece of Southside trash?"

Fangs shook his head and crossed his arms over his broad chest, "But-I mean- doesn't that punish her, too? She hasn't done anything to us."

Jughead took another long drag of his cigarette as he shared a sideways grin with Sweet Pea before directing his full attention once again to his overly concerned companion. "Don't worry, Fangsy," he chuckled, "I'll make sure she doesn't have any complaints."

He flicked the still glowing butt away and kicked his bike to life as Fangs rolled his eyes.

"That's not what I meant," Fangs shouted over the roaring engine, "and you know it!"

Jughead shook his head and squinted at his friend as he strapped his helmet to his head, "I can't hear you!"

With that, he took off, Sweet Pea hot on his trail. Fangs had to rush to mount and start his bike if he so much as hoped to catch up to them. So that's what he did. For better or worse, if he agreed or not, Jug was his prince and where he led, Fangs would follow.

Author's Note : Uh-oh. Thoughts? Comments? Complaints? Questions?


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note : Why can't she stop thinking about him? I wonder…

Disclaimer : Don't own em. Like em a lot.

Chapter Three Song Choice : "Dark Doo Wop" by MS MR

Chapter Four :

Nearly a week had gone by before she saw him again. Betty was ashamed to admit that she had looked for him; searched the face of every person who entered the diner; turned her head to the sound of any motorcycle engine that she happened to catch hint of. It never turned out to be him. She had almost convinced herself that she had imagined the whole thing. After all, could anyone really have eyes _that _green; a smile _that _affecting? Probably not. She had just been tired and annoyed with her boyfriend and had imagined some fantasy that didn't really exist. That was a perfectly valid explanation.

She was working the late shift at Pop's on the following Friday night, a source of contention between herself and Archie. He hated when she worked weekend nights. Those were times that he believed should be reserved for dates with him. Never mind that when she'd had the previous Friday _off, _he'd opted to go 'out with the boys.' Archie was a sweetheart, he really was, but he certainly preferred to have things his own way. Possibly the byproduct of being an only child, but there it was.

Betty on the other hand, had learned the value of hard work from a young age having been raised by two working parents with two siblings. She appreciated working on Friday nights. Tips were aplenty on Friday nights. She was able to contribute to her college savings _and _have a little extra that she could spend on herself. Her mother had even signed an honest to God permission slip so that she could work past midnight on weekends, since Pop's was open twenty-four hours. Normally, when she worked a Friday or Saturday (she never worked them back to back) she would come in a 6 pm for the dinner rush, take an hour dinner break at 11 pm and then work midnight to 3 am. Her feet were usually killing her by the time she got home, but she would collapse into bed and her parents always let her sleep as long as she needed to next day.

It had been approaching 1 am, most of the customers had cleared out save for a couple sipping coffee and staring longingly into each other's eyes in the back corner booth. Betty was wiping down the counter with a damp rag when the bell over the door chimed and she looked up and directly into those brilliant green eyes. He was alone tonight…and _Gawd _he looked good. So, she hadn't imagined that little fact after all. Good to know. Betty fought to keep her heartbeat in check and control her breathing. He wore his leather serpents jacket, a dark gray tee, fitted faded jeans that were ripped at the thighs and knees and a pair of suspenders hung loose around his hips. His thick, soft looking dark hair peeked out from beneath his gray beanie in unruly waves. Betty wanted to run her fingers through it even as she battled down the urge to smooth her hands over her own hair to make sure it was still neat and tidy. She wanted him to think she looked good too, despite the yellow Pop's uniform that she wore. Her movements came to a complete standstill when he walked directly to her, perched on one of the barstools and folded his elbows onto the countertop.

"Hi there, princess," he said on a smirk.

Betty felt her mouth open, but no sound came out…and she still hadn't moved. She shook herself out of the daze, actually physically shook her head.

"Hi!" she chirped, her voice sounding squeaky even to herself. She felt her ears get hot.

Jughead didn't know if he had ever encountered someone who blushed the way this girl did. He broke into a full-fledged grin, "You look all pretty and pink when you blush, like a strawberry."

"Great," she nodded, her eyes closing in humiliation even as she knew she was turning even redder, "Good to know. Hi, how are you this evening?"

"I'm alive."

"That's…better than the alternative, I guess."

"It is indeed," he laughed.

Jughead watched as she slid her rag to the side and leaned in toward him, bracing her elbows on the counter. She smiled prettily at him, "You know, I was beginning to think you'd forgotten we were here."

Jughead couldn't have stopped himself if he'd wanted to…which he didn't. He leaned more across the counter as well, closing the distance between them just a little more. He could smell her scent; rose petals and rainwater. He almost laughed at the romanticism of such a thought as it was completely against his nature; not his style. He arched an eyebrow at her and hit her with what Toni referred to as his 'panty-dropper' smirk. "So, you've been thinking about me?"

The red in her cheeks deepened, but to her credit, she barely batted an eye before replying, "Only insofar as wondering if I was ever gonna have to make good on my milkshake offer."

"Ah," he leaned back, still smiling, "Always smart to keep track of one's debts."

"Exactly."

She wasn't very good at hiding her feelings, his pretty blonde target. She wanted him. She was attracted to him. This was might go down as the easiest mark he'd ever scored.

"Well, alright then. Who could ever say no to a free milkshake?"

Betty straightened her stance, keeping one hand planted on the counter, she cocked out a hip and rested her other fist there. She scrunched her nose and narrowed her eyes as she stared at him, contemplative, she sized him up. She was adorable. "You strike me as a double chocolate kind of guy."

"Normally, I'd agree, princess, but I don't know," he let his own assessment of her read loud and clear in his expression, "Tonight, I'm feeling strawberries and cream."

The whoosh of air that escaped Betty's lips at those words was shaky and jagged at best. A tremble rode through her entire body and caused goosebumps to raise across her flesh as though she were cold. Quite to the contrary, the heat that his sentence had elicited made her feel as though her skin were on fire. She found her eyes darting to his hands. He had graceful, long fingered hands that looked as though they had been designed to play a musical instrument…or…other things… Basically, he had amazing hands. She could easily become obsessed with those hands.

Jughead watched his golden girl sink her straight white teeth into that full bottom lip of hers as she tilted her chin down and then looked up at him through her long, sooty eyelashes. God, he wanted to bite down on that lip. Her blush deepened. It made her look shy, sweet, innocent.

However, in Jughead's experience, no female was ever as innocent as she let herself appear to be. Case and point in Betty's instance, this was the second time they had met, he had openly flirted with her on both occasions and _not once _had she mentioned the fact that she had a boyfriend.

'No,' he thought with a smirk, 'the Northside princess is no innocent. She knows how the game is played and she damn well knows what she's doing with that mouth of hers.'

She cleared her throat as though trying to collect herself, "So, uh, I'll get you that shake."

Less than five minutes later, she was setting the pink dessert drink topped with a mound of whipped cream and a ripe, red strawberry on the rim in front of him. She again leaned forward, bracing herself on her elbows. He grinned. She had used her time making the shake to collect herself.

"So," she said, "you haven't actually introduced yourself to me. I don't even know your name."

"Jughead Jones."

And there it was; that flash of recognition in those wide emerald eyes that always accompanied his introduction. However, it wasn't followed by the customary fear/panic/terror…but more of intrigue. He watched her eyes dart down to the small white patch on the front of his jacket that simply read '_Prince.' _Yet again, she didn't look scared; she looked curious.

"You've heard of me," he stated.

She laughed a little at his statement, "Hasn't everyone in Riverdale heard of _the _Jughead Jones? Should I call you 'your highness'?"

"You're great for a guy's ego, aren't you?"

"Something tells me your ego is doing just fine."

He reached out and flicked the tip of his finger across her nametag just above her left breast, with a valiant effort to resist the urge to let his finger slide just a little lower to where he knew he would find her nipple puckered in excitement, "You got a last name, Betty?"

"Cooper," she said, her voice soft, her gaze dropping quickly to his mouth before jumping back up to his eyes.

Oh, yeah. He was in. Time to seal the deal.

"Well, Betty Cooper," he plucked the strawberry from the rim of his glass and drudged it through the whipped cream before he extended it toward her lips in offering. He wanted to see her teeth sink into the supple red flesh of the fruit, "how about you let me take you on a tour of the Southside? I'll show you all the good places the Northsiders don't know about."

A quick succession of rapid blinking had Betty straightening away from the counter, away from the proffered whipped cream covered berry, away from _him._ Dammit. He'd miscalculated.

"Um, oh God," she said of the sudden, "I…I can't. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I handled this so…I have a boyfriend!"

"A boyfriend?" Of course this was not new information for Jughead, but he was still caught off guard. He hadn't expected her to admit it. She was obviously attracted to him. Her pupils dilated to the size of small dinner plates when she looked at him, her cheeks flushed, her breathing sped up and grew shallow; all of the signs were there, dammit! She was supposed to bat those pretty lashes, smile a coy little grin and then let him fuck her in the bathroom until she screamed his name. Instead, she was looking somewhat embarrassed and ashamed, withdrawing in on herself before his very eyes.

Betty nodded, "Yeah."

"Does he know you go around giving out free milkshakes and flirting your cute little ass off with complete strangers?"

Okay, that was probably uncalled for but he found that he was irritated with her. Yes, he wanted his payback against Andrews, but dammit, he also wanted _her. _And Jughead Jones did not like being denied what he wanted.

"I didn't…maybe I did…I don't…" her elbows went back to the counter and she dropped her head in her hands, "I'm sorry."

"No, I get it," he couldn't keep the snarl from his tone, "you're a tease."

"What?" her eyes widened in what appeared to be genuine shock, "Wait! No! I-"

She seemed so ridiculously miserable at the accusation and while he was perfectly capable of pushing her and being a complete bastard, he made another discovery. He didn't want to be a bastard to her. Well, at least not a complete one.

But he wanted to keep her feeling just a little guilt for 'leading him on.' It would serve to soften her for his next move. He dropped the strawberry into the middle of the milkshake with _plop._

"Hey," he said standing from the stool, "it's cool. No harm, no foul, right?"

"Jughead-"

"Tell you what, don't worry about it. I mean, nobody's perfect."

Her green eyes swept up and locked on his, "Do you really believe that?"

The question held what he could only akin to desperation and he found that he wasn't quite prepared for that, nor did he have any idea what to do with it. He decided it was time to make his retreat before the look of longing on her face weakened his resolve.

"Sure," He said as he pulled out his wallet and tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter. Betty's gaze locked on the money and she looked like she wanted to throw up.

"The milkshake is on me, remember?"

"So, keep it as a tip," he spat, leaving the untouched drink on the counter, he sailed out the door, "See ya around, Cooper."

Betty felt her stomach sink so low it mush have hit her ankles as she watched Jughead exit the diner. Had she been leading him on? Like a tease? Kind of. Probably. She had enjoyed his attention; his flirtation; the way he watched her. It had made her feel sexy, which wasn't a feeling she was used to.

_I mean, nobody's perfect._

She wondered if her truly believed that; if he was really capable of looking at someone with no expectation of perfection or excellence. Could he look at _her _and just see Betty?

She wanted to have someone like that in her life. She _needed _to have someone like that in her life. All at once, she was hit with the almost dizzying premonition that she needed Jughead specifically in her life.

And as she listened the rumble of she instinctually knew to be his motorcycle fade into the distance, she realized that he had just stormed out of the diner and left her no way to contact or track him down.

Betty went home after work that night, but sleep remained elusive to her. She couldn't seem to get comfortable; she's get hot and tangled in her bed-sheets so she'd kick them off and ten minutes later, she'd be freezing and pull them back over her again. Her mouth had felt dry, so she got for a drink of water and ten minutes later she had to get up again to go pee. The night devolved into a sweaty mess of tossing and turning with heavy eyelids that just refused to stay closed.

She finally gave up on sleep and rolled out of bed around 8:30am; significantly earlier than she normally did on a morning following one of her late night weekend shifts. The spray of the shower was scalding. Betty leaned her forehead against the cooler tiles while she let the hot water work away at the tension knots in her back. When her eyelids drifted closed, she was assaulted with the unsettling vision of smirking green eyes. She didn't want to think about those eyes going cold and distant. She wanted the heat; the fire; the intensity. It was that intensity that was first and foremost in her mind as her hand fluttered over her breast and sent heat surging to the pit of her stomach…and lower. There was a pressure building between her legs that she had only even felt the vaguest shadow of. The hand that wasn't on her breast started to drift between her legs, needing to do something to offer some relief to the pressure. The soft, pliable skin was so sensitive to even the lightest touch of her fingers, it sent a shock through Betty's entire system. Her eyelids fell closed and she imagined different hands, long graceful fingers, large palms, green eyes. On a half gasp/half moan, her eyelids popped open and she brought both hands to her abdomen, safely distanced from her more tender body parts.

What was she doing?

With refocused determination, Betty washed her hair and shut of the water. Under normal circumstances, she liked to linger in the warmth and the steam of the shower, but shame in the wanderings of her imagination drove her from the bath sooner than she would have liked.

Wrapping a towel around her wet hair, she left the en suite and quickly donned her underwear. She had just pulled out a pair of clean blue jeans when she happened to glance up in time to see Archie enter his bedroom and freeze when his eyes landed on her. He didn't look away, nor bother to hide that he was staring and Betty felt her face flush at his slow perusal. He stepped closer to his own window, a small half smile tipping up the corners of his mouth as he let his gaze travel her.

Betty could almost feel the heat of his eyes like an unwanted carress that made her uncomfortable. He was looking at her bare limbs as though he were entitled to; as though he had every right.

Didn't he?

Did he?

Betty shimmied her jeans up around her hips, flashed Archie what she knew to be a weak smile along with a little wave and then scurried back into the en suite to dry her hair and finish dressing for the day.

After she had dried, curled and secured her hair back into a pretty ponytail, she pulled on a fuzzy blue sweater and headed down the stairs. The doorbell rang as soon as her sock clad foot hit the bottom step. She had a feeling she knew who was on the other side of that door, so it was with a deep and steadying breath that she pulled the door open.

Archie didn't even say hello before stepping into the house and pressing his lips against hers. He backed her across the threshold and kicked the front door closed with his foot. He pressed her back into the wall, his body pressed flush against her and he started spreading kisses across her jawline and down her neck.

"Archie…" Betty gasped as she curled her fingers into his wide shoulders and tried to push him back away from her, "Archie, stop. My parents…"

"They left an hour ago," he breathed into her neck, "I saw them when I was getting back from my morning jog."

He slid his hands up her ribs to cup her breasts, a strange déjà vu to her shower earlier. Betty tensed and drew her shoulders forward, trying to retreat from his advance. She couldn't explain it, but having his wide, warm hands on her body felt…wrong. "Archie, no." she said.

Archie caught her chin in his hand, "Betty, you're so perfect. I can't even think…"

Betty didn't know how to respond to him; neither his words or his touches.

"Archie, I'm not ready," Betty said, turning her face away from him.

He pulled her collar to the side and dropped his mouth to her clavicle, licked and sucked at the delicate skin that covered her breastbone. "You're so beautiful…" he mumbled into her flesh as he ignored that his girlfriend was struggling in his tightened embrace, trying to twist away from him.

"Archie!" Betty exclaimed and shoved at his rock-like shoulders, "Dammit, I said no!"

Archie finally backed away, his breathing was labored and shallow, his pupils dilated as he stared at her through a haze of frustrated lust. Betty stared at him, flushed and angry and uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," Archie said, "I'm sorry, Betty. I don't know what came over me. I saw you in the window and-"

He was interrupted when Betty's cellphone chimed from her back pocket. She fixed him with another glare before digging it out and reading the text.

**V : **_Mani pedis at Salonge. You in?_

Archie stepped toward her and wrapped a hand around her elbow. He stroked his thumb in a comforting swirl along her soft skin. "I'm really sorry, Betts. Let me make it up to you. I'll take you to-"

"I'm sorry, Arch. I already have plans with V."

Author's Note : I promise Juggie is not as bad as he seems! Betty is gonna flip his world upside down very soon! And visa versa! Thoughts? Comments? Complaints? Questions?


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note : This is kind of a filler chapter but stick with me! The good stuff is coming up. This is NOT as slow a burn as it seems to be! Things are about to heat up!

Disclaimer : Don't own em. Like em a lot.

Chapter Five Song Choice : "Pretty Girl" by Sugarcult

Chapter Five :

"Do you think I'm a tease?"

"What?" Veronica exclaimed at Betty's question, glancing up from her foot massage.

Salonge was the only nail salon in Riverdale, but as it was owned by Hiram Lodge, Veronica's father, it was nothing but the best and there as the added perk that Veronica, Betty and Cheryl never paid. Just tipped. The walls and floors were a soothing taupe and white color; the lights where dim and amber and classical music pumped at muted decimals through discreetly hidden speakers in the ceiling. The middle of the spa held several fingernail stations with an array of colored bottles, tools, foam and cotton balls; all presented in aesthetically pleasing shelves and glass jars. There was a row of five cushy leather massage chairs with the blue sudsy water that circulated a lovely floral fragrance. The overall affect was relaxing.

"Do we think you're a tease?" Cheryl repeated from Betty's other side.

The girls were lounged back in the plush luxury chairs, ankle deep in the warm bubbling water as they enjoyed being pampered a little bit.

"You know," Betty said, "do I lead guys on?"

"What the hell did Archie say now?" Cheryl demanded.

"No," Betty said with a quick shake of her head in attempt to calm the tempest that was Cheryl Blossom, "no, no, it wasn't Archie."

The sight of the identical expressions of confusion that crossed both Cheryl's and Veronica's faces almost made Betty laugh. They could have been mirror images, each lifting a perfectly groomed eyebrow in question. It was borderline comical.

"Then…who?" Veronica asked.

"That part…" Betty hedged, "that part isn't important."

"B!" Veronica said at the same time Cheryl demanded, "Spill!"

Betty let her head fall back against the soft headrest of the chair back, closed her eyes and tried to focus on the feel of the nail technician digging a strong thumb into the pressure point along the arch of her foot. After she had taken a deep, steadying breath, she opened her eyes and began to tell her friends about her encounter with the beautiful and dangerous Serpent Prince. She told them everything; from the moment his lean, muscled arms rescued her from face-planting when she slipped in Kevin's spilled soda to the moment he had stormed out of Pop's without touching his milkshake. Though, she decided, _stormed _was strong word. He had exited with aggression.

"Okay," Veronica said slowly. Betty recognized V's thoughtful expression. She would sit for a moment, process all the information and consider her next words with care. "Were you…trying to lead him on?"

"No!" Betty replied, perhaps a bit too quickly, "I mean, maybe? I don't know. He is so gorgeous and I'd be lying if I said I didn't _enjoy _the attention. I was flattered…and he was charming and…I flirted. But then he asked me out and I just…I didn't know what to do."

Veronica and Cheryl shared a mirrored look of smirks and raised eyebrows.

"Did you-_want _-to say yes?" Veronica asked.

Betty groaned in answer.

"Ooh," Cheryl grinned, "who would have pictured it? Our sweet Betty has a taste for bad boys."

"Cher!" Betty exclaimed, "I don't! I'm not doing this. I'm with Archie."

"Then why are you so upset about what some other guys thinks?" Cheryl countered in a tone that implied this to be the most logical question in the world.

And it was.

It was a completely legitimate question. If Betty was completely in love and committed to Archie, why was she so upset with the idea that Jughead was done with her?

Because she was friendly person and the idea that she had hurt someone didn't sit well with her. That's all it was.

"I just don't like the idea that maybe there is a vibe I'm putting out there. I don't want to lead anybody on and or have guys think of me as a, you know, tease."

"Nobody thinks of you that way, cousin." Cheryl said.

"It's true," Veronica added with a gently pat to Betty's hand, "you're too sweet. You just damaged Jughead's fragile male ego so he lashed with the universal chauvinistic response of attacking you sexuality because you have a vagina."

Betty pressed her lips together as both eyebrows jumped upward and she nodded, "Wow."

Jughead sauntered through the Whyte Wyrm, beer bottle dangling from his fingertips and an unlit cigarette in the corner of his lips. He joined Sweet Pea at the billiards table where his friend was lining up a shot. Sweet Pea sank the five-ball then straightened and held out his hand to Jug. Without a word, Jug pulled his pack of Marlboro Reds from his jacket pocket and flipped it open for Sweet Pea to take one. He lit Pea's first, then his own and enjoyed a nice long pull of nicotine into his lungs.

"So," Sweet Pea started on a stream of smoke from his own cig, "how'd it go with Blondie?"

"Work in progress."

Sweet Pea chuckled, "Oh, yeah? Was the mighty Serpent Prince rejected?"

Jughead shot him a look, "Just a bump in the road. She's…"

Sweet Pea watched as Jughead's gaze dropped and an expressions crossed his face that was almost…wistful.

"She's different than I expected." He said finally.

"How so?"

"She's, I don't know, funny. Nice. She has a…laugh."

"She has a laugh?" Sweet Pea cackled on a burst of smoke, "Jesus, Jug, doesn't everybody have a laugh?"

"Shut up, jackass," Jughead retorted and looked away.

It was about that moment that Evelyn appeared and sidled up to the pair. She leaned into Jughead and traced a hand up his bicep to the side of his neck. "Hey there, Jug," she cooed, "I've been thinking about you."

"Always flattering, Ev, but take it somewhere else, okay."

"What?" she hissed.

"I'm not interested." Jughead said with a shrug and took another drag of his cigarette.

Evelyn shoved both hands against his chest and on instinct, Sweet Pea straightened as though preparing to haul her away. Jughead was more than capable of handling her, but nobody fucked with the prince.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Evelyn demanded.

Jughead leaned forward, his vibrant green eyes boring directly into hers, "I'm the fuck you're not gonna get. Move on."

Evelyn moved to slap him across the face, but Jughead caught her by the wrist and flung it back down to her side.

"Hey," Pea snapped, "he said move on, Evelyn. Beat it."

"You guys are assholes, you know that?" she spat before she spun on her heel and stomped off across the bar to lick her wounds.

"Are we assholes?" Sweet Pea asked.

Jug looked at him, "Most likely."

"Huh. Are we good with that?"

"I mean, I'm okay with it."

"Awesome. I was worried for a minute there."

Jughead laughed, took a swig from his beer and slapped Sweet Pea on the shoulder, careful not to burn him with the cigarette he still clutched between his fingers.

"Kinda glad you decided not to hit that," Pea continued, "Evelyn's hot but…she's…she creeps me out, man."

"She does have a scent of crazy about her."

"Besides, I get the feeling you need your strength for Blondie."

Jughead grinned. He did need his strength for Betty. He wanted to give her his A-game. Something about her, the sweetness that exuded from her smile and voice, it made him want to be a good guy for her. He didn't want to be tainted from the likes of Evelyn Evernever when Betty deserved not only his full attention…but he had decided she deserved his faithfulness as well. Yes, she was dating that sonofbitch, Archie Andrews. Yes, he and she weren't together…yet. And when they did get together, he would make her see that he could be a dedicated lover. The was another conclusion he had come to after their encounter. He wasn't interested in a wham-bam with her. He wanted to be her lover.

He turned to Sweet Pea, "You feel like a cheeseburger?"

It had been three days, nineteen hours and seventeen minutes since Jughead had left her at Pop's. Not that Betty had been counting or anything. Because she hadn't been. Nope. Not at all. Not her.

So, on Tuesday night during Betty's shift, when the bell above the door chimed and three dark haired boys clad in Serpents jackets came rough-housing through the door, she didn't immediately their faces and the immediate surrounding area for that familiar gray beanie. And she didn't feel an almost overwhelming sense of disappointment when she discovered that he wasn't there with his friends.

And it was only a strong work ethic that had been instilled in her by Alice and Hal Cooper that led her to more or less hip-check the older server, Dorthea, out of the way so that she herself could be the one to wait on the group when they took the large corner booth in the back of the diner.

Betty gave a quick, "I got this one, Dorthea!" over her shoulder along the way.

The young men were boisterous and loud, swatting and laughing and punching at each other as Betty approached.

"Hey there, guys!" Betty greeted, her eyes lighting on the one familiar face, "Hi, Joaquin!"

Having the connection to him through Kevin, no matter how tenuous, might just increase her chances of getting even a little bit of intel on Jughead.

"Hey, Betty," Joaquin replied, a sweet little smirk on his lips. He sat nearest the window with a tan skinned, chisel jawed young man with slicked back hair beside him. Across from them was another rather intimidating looking dark haired, dark eyed young man with a snake tattooed on his neck. Joaquin had an intensity to him, but there was also something soft in his features. The two with him did not have the same softness. Betty swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat and directed the uncomfortable question she wanted to ask toward Joaquin.

"Are, uh…are you…is it, uh, is it just the three of you tonight?" she stuttered, "Or are you…are you waiting on anyone else?"

Joaquin maintained eye contact with her but looked as though he was biting back a smile. The other two with him shared some kind of look with each other across the table that Betty didn't understand… and didn't think she wanted to. However, it was in the midst of that look that she heard his deep, gravelly voice from behind her.

"What? You guys already order without me or something?"

His voice, his tone, it rolled over Betty's skin like a wave; leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Hell no, Jones," neck tattoo exclaimed, "we know better. We get our food before you get yours and you start eating ours."

Betty took a steadying breath and glanced over her shoulder. Jughead barely spared her a glance as he slipped past her and into the booth. Betty struggled for a few pounding heartbeats to recollect herself.

"Um, can I get your drinks?" she asked in a much more subdued pitch than usual.

"I'll take a Sprite. Thanks, Betty." Joaquin said.

"Chocolate shake," Tan boy added.

Neck tattoo ordered, "Rootbeer float."

Jughead was the last to order. "I'll take a-"

Betty couldn't stop herself, "Strawberry shake?"

Jughead finally looked up at him.

When Jughead made eye contact with Betty, the question and hope in those big green eyes hit him in the gut like a sucker punch. But he wasn't ready to let her off the hook at just that moment.

"I think I'm more in the mood for a double chocolate today, thanks."

He felt the slightest twinge of guilt when he smile faltered and her shoulders sagged. But she wrote down the order, forced the brightness back into her grin and spun around to take their drink orders back to the counter.

"Damn, Jonesy," Fangs breathed.

"That was cold," Sweet Pea added with a grin.

Joaquin raised a brow, "Don't be mean to the kid."

"Hey," Jug countered, "I'm in a forgiving mood today." He threw a glance over his shoulder, "I just wanna make her sweat a little."

"I wouldn't mind making her sweat," Sweet Pea said, also looking over his shoulder to where Betty was lifting a drink laden trey from the front counter.

"Hey!" Jug snapped in a quiet but deadly tone, "You watch your mouth or I'll cut out your fuckin' tongue."

"Easy, friend," Pea said, "Just an observation."

Jug growled but bit it back when Betty appeared with their drinks. "Okay," she chirped, "do you guys know what you want to eat?"

Betty probably checked on Jughead's table more than usual and more than any of the other tables she had been serving at the same time, but she couldn't seem to help herself. She wanted to be near Jughead. She wanted to gauge his mood, his thoughts, his reaction to her. She wanted to identify forgiveness in his eyes.

But he hadn't paid her any excess attention. He'd been polite. He'd thanked her for his food and when she'd brought and refilled a glass of water for him when he'd finished his shake. But no matter how many times she'd let her hand linger just so in front of him with the hopes he'd touch her in some way, he hadn't.

When they'd finished their food, they paid their checks in cash and Betty felt as though she had been officially dismissed.

And it stung.

She went back behind the counter and start cleaning the soda machine in attempt to fight off her darkening mood. She heard the chime of the bell and knew that her Serpent customers had left the building. She slapped her damp rag against the counter.

_I will not cry. Betty Cooper, dammit, you will not cry. _She repeated the thought in her mind repeatedly.

"Betty Cooper," that fantastic deep voice rolled from behind her, "you make it very hard to stay made at you."

She spun around and bit her lips together against a smile. Jughead sat on a stool at the counter, his arms braced against the top as he leaned his body across it toward her. There was a smirk on his mouth.

_God, she's pretty_, he thought. He kept telling himself that he was building her up in his head, but then he'd see her and she was even better than he remembered. Every time she hit him with that green gaze, he wanted to wrap his hands around her and carry her off somewhere that he could keep her and have her all to himself. He didn't want to share her with anybody. Not his friends, not her friends, nobody.

Betty let out a deep breath, "I don't want you to be mad at me."

His smirk morphed into a full-fledged grin. He tilted his head to the side in a way that made him look boyish and endearing, "So, here's the thing. There's a chance, just a chance, that I _may _have over-reacted."

She slinked forward to him, "Yeah?"

_Mine, _he thought.

He said, "Just a chance."

"I probably should have mentioned-"

"Nah," he said, "you're fucking beautiful, Betty. I shouldn't have assumed you were available."

He was careful there. He didn't say single. Single and available were not always the same thing. They could mutually exclusive.

"I enjoyed talking to you the other night," Betty admitted, "and I'll be honest, I enjoyed your flirting with me."

"So, what do you want from me, Betty?"

"I wanna be your friend," Betty was emphatic, "I wanna talk to you, get to know you. Is that…possible?"

Jughead sank his teeth into his bottom, then released it and touched the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. The action drew Betty's gaze to the temptation that was his mouth…and he knew it.

"Friends, huh?"

Betty nodded, "Friends."

"Okay," he nodded, "Alright, Princess."

Betty let out a groan, and leaned her own elbows onto the counter, closing the distance between them, "Do you have to call me that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Jughead grinned, "Because-you're all pretty and pink and have this whole ivory tower thing working for you. Every prince wants a princess, right? Makes me wanna slay the dragon and take you out into the world. You know, get you a little dirty. Muss you up a little bit."

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

"I can get mussed." Betty defended.

"Oh, yeah?" Jughead asked on a single raised eyebrow.

"And I slay my own dragons, thank you."

"Oh, I see. Badass Betty?"

"You'd better believe it!"

"Oh, I do."

"Good," She chimed. Then she slid her hand across the counter, the tips of her fingers brushing against the tips of his. She was unapologetic at the contact. Rather she was blatant about it. She let her fingers slide between his, threading them together, caressing, playing, toying with them. "So, what do you say, Juggie? You wanna be my friend?"

Author's Note : Like I said, stick with me! We have re-established the connection with Jug and Betty and he is done being a jerk. Like I said, about to heat up.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note : This chapter was difficult for me…mainly because I am ready to get to the next chapter. LOL. So, I basically no longer have an upload schedule, for which I apologize. Between work and life and being part of a theatre production, time is sparse. But…I do promise to update as often as I can! Please let me know what you think! I crave your thoughts and feedback!

Disclaimer : Don't own em. Like em a lot.

Chapter Six Song Choice : "Trouble" by P!nk

Chapter Six :

Friendship with the Serpent Prince Jughead Jones was different than any other that Betty had ever experienced. She had had male friends in the past; but things with Jughead felt different. Perhaps it was because her other guys friends had always been mutual friends with Archie…or Kevin. But they had never really done the things that Jughead did with regularity.

First and foremost, he spoke to her like she had a brain. That was unfair to Kevin. He spoke to her as though she had a brain, but their conversations usually revolved around school assignments, college and boys. And fashion advice. He loved to help her decide what to wear. He was irreplaceable.

But her other male "friends," when they spoke to her at all, it was about Archie or cheerleading or sports or…asking if they could borrow her notes from some class. Occasionally they like to tell her how hot she was or tell her how Archie was lucky to have such a "perfect girl."

And they never shied to ask her to grab them another beer at a party.

Jughead spoke to her about literature. Not school sanctioned reading assignments, but about what she read for pleasure. He could hold an intelligent conversation about Kafka, Dostoyevsky and admitted to being thrilled when she confided that despite having told Veronica and Cheryl that she had sobbed at it's conclusion, she had never actually read Nicholas Sparks' _The Notebook_.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that particular author or genre," she said to him, "I just couldn't get through it."

Jughead threw his head back in laughter. With a grin, Betty had put her hand on his forearm, "I did see the movie though."

"Well, as long as you saw the movie, we have to let you keep your girly girl card."

"Does it still count if V forced me into it?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh, good."

She admitted to preferring Capote and Morrison to Sparks or Roberts.

They discussed poets. He knew who Andrew Marvell was! He could quote from _The Garden. _They debated the merits of Robert Frost; Betty maintained that he was not only overrated, but a complete bore. Jughead found him calming. Betty explained that that could be another word for boring.

They both agreed that Anne Sexton, while talented and relevant, was a little dark and really disturbing. It was invigorating to Betty to get the male perspective on some of her favorite authors from someone who seemed just a passionate about literary genius as she was.

And then, there was the touching.

When she hung out with Jughead, usually late at night when he would hang around the diner and wait for her shift to end, he would always find little ways to touch her be it a tug at her ponytail, a nudge of her shoulder or a quick tickling poke to her sides. One night, she had clocked out and joined him, Fangs and Sweet Pea at the booth they had been occupying for the better part of an hour. She had slid in next to him and without breaking his conversation, he had draped an arm across the back of the booth behind her shoulders and let his hand dangle forward, his fingertips had traced a lazy back and forth along her skin where her should and neck met. It had seemed a thoughtless touch. Something he had done without conscious acknowledgement; but that languid pattern along the tender flesh of her neck had damn near set her insides on fire.

It was a feeling she had never experienced before…with anyone. And it was starting to confuse her.

If she were going to have these kinds of feelings, shouldn't she have had them with Archie…her boyfriend. She hadn't spoken to Cheryl or Veronica about Jughead again since the nail salon so she had no one to bounce these crazy feelings and emotions off of; no one to turn to for advice. Not that either of them would ever judge her for it. Hell, Cheryl would throw a tickertape parade. But she liked that Jughead was separate from her other friends. It made it feel private, personal, like he belonged to her. She liked that thought…probably a little more than she should.

She understood enough to know that her feelings were wrong. Her mind was so tangled and messed up with her physical reactions to Jug that she knew she had to take action. She had to do something to make it right; to set world back upright on its axis again.

It was her night off. She left her house, crossed the yard and joined her boyfriend at his house for a movie night in his living room while his father was across town for a dinner meeting.

Archie popped the latest cheesy Halloween flick into the DVD player before he joined Betty on the couch and pulled her into his embrace. She knew his track record and she knew that in about ten minutes, he would initiate a make-out session until he tried to push too far and she would call a halt to it. It was as predictable as the sunrise.

Sure enough, the hand of the arm draped over her shoulders started to swirl little patterns on her upper arm. The touch, while not exact, called to mind the way Jughead had touched her just two nights before in the booth at Pop's. Betty tried to feel the fire in her stomach for Archie that she had felt then. She turned her head in invitation. Archie pounced.

He pushed his mouth against hers with hunger, thrusting his tongue into her depths. Kissing Archie was always…nice. Comfortable. He slid a hand to the nape of her neck and deepened the intimacy. His other hand slid to her ribcage, the tip of his thumb brushed against the rounded underside of her breast.

Betty wanted so desperately to feel the spark that she had felt two nights ago…but there was frustratingly _nothing. _She took matters into her own hands and pushed Archie back against the couch. She ignored the surprise on his face and climbed into his lap, her thighs straddling his.

"Damn, Betty!" Archie said, his voice shaky in excitement.

She had never done something like that before. She pressed forward and took control if the kiss, but her frustration only grew because she didn't know what she was doing. Archie's hands gripped her hips and pushed her core down on his hardening erection. She rolled her pelvis against him, frantic, anxious, determined to _feel _something. Archie groaned into her mouth as he slid one hand around to squeeze the round globe of her ass.

She should be out of her mind with arousal right now! But all at once her skin felt too tight and all wrong. She knew that when she opened her eyes, she be met with kind, caramel colored eyes…not fierce green ones. The hair her fingers were tangled in was the color of copper, not midnight black. And she knew that was the way that it should be…but it felt off. So off. So…not right. Archie's touches as he groped at her rear and skimmed his other hand to caress her breast didn't elicit heat or electricity, but discomfort, like she was suddenly ticklish in those areas. Her instinct was to sink into herself to disengage his fondling. She broke away from his kiss to battle back the sting of tears that she felt.

Archie didn't notice her distress, turned his attentions to her throat, kissing and sucking at the soft skin there. Without warning, with his breath coming out in heavy pants, he pulled her back from his self, shoved her sweater up with one hand and yanked the cup of her bra down with the other. When he leaned forward, his eyes trained on her nipple, Betty panicked.

"Archie!" she exclaimed as she clambered off of his lap and around the coffee table, putting space and furniture between them. Her sweater dropped back down over her torso and she crossed her arms protectively over her chest as she refused to meet his gaze. Her bra was still uncomfortably askew, but she couldn't bring herself to right it in front of him. He stood from the couch and moved as though he might reach for her and she skittered backward, her knees bumping into side of the leather Lazyboy recliner. "I'm so sorry!" she breathed.

"Don't be sorry," Archie said with a shake of his head. His cheeks were flushed red like he was over heated, his pupils were dilated with lust and his hands were trembling. His fingers itched. He wanted to reach out and grab her, drag her body against his own for the alleviating friction it would cause. He wanted to pin her to couch beneath him invade that sweet, perfect body until she cried out his name.

But he couldn't tell her those things. She looked ready to bolt as it was.

"Betty, that was…amazing."

His words stung. Because it hadn't been amazing. It had been uncomfortable and awkward and she didn't want to ever do it again.

"I feel like it was a step forward, you know," he continued, "to where we want to be."

Everything inside of Betty revolted at the idea. But when she looked up and saw undisguised hope in his eyes, she couldn't bring herself to admit that to him. She just nodded and tightened her arms around herself.

"Yeah," she lied, "but it was a lot for me."

"I know that." He said.

"And…and I think I need to go home now, okay?"

"Of course," Archie said as he closed the distance between them and rubbed his hands over her upper arms in what he believed to be a comforting gesture, "Of course. I know…this…the physical stuff is new and difficult for you. I blame your mom."

It was said with a grin, but Betty wondered if he didn't really believe that. It wasn't so farfetched really. Her mother was a frightening individual who was critical, demanding and overbearing. She loved her children with the terrifying fierceness of a mama bear and Betty could see how someone on the outside could confuse that for repression.

The truth was, Alice had always been very open with her children when it came to sex. She never wanted them to be afraid to come to her with questions or concerns in that regard; opting instead to teach them about safety, precaution and how what they did with their bodies was _always _their choice and not to let anyone, including herself, make it for them.

But it was easier in that moment to let Archie believe that her difficulties with physical intimacy spurned from her parents than from a lack of desire.

A well worn bright pink book slapped down on the counter in front of her as Betty was setting up for a Tuesday evening shift at Pop's. She looked up from counting her drawer to see Jughead's familiar and cocky grin. With a smirk back at him, she picked up the book and read the title aloud.

"_100 Love Sonnets_. Pablo Neruda. Love sonnets, huh?" She looked back at him, "I didn't think you were the type."

"Have you read Neruda before?" he asked as he leaned forward across the counter in a pose that was steadily becoming as familiar to her as his voice.

"I have not." She admitted.

"He's good. It's…a different kind of love poem. This edition has both the original Spanish and the English translations."

She flipped the book over to read the back, "Oh, yeah?"

"There's one that makes me think of you."

Her heartbeat increased exponentially at the words.

"Actually, there are several that make me think of you but one in particular."

Jughead felt his stomach twist a little as that green gaze slid up away from the book to lock onto his own. Her expression was an open question. God, he wanted to touch her. Instead, he smiled and quoted.

"_Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo_

_y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado,_

_Quiero comer el rayo quemado en tu hermosura._"

Betty couldn't breathe. She had no idea what he had said, but the way he had said it, the tone of his voice and the way his eyes had traced her face, her lips, her body as his tongue had rolled those words out like seduction covered in honey had caused some kind of chemical short circuit in her brain. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. And the only thing she could think was how she wanted to wrap herself around him and beg him to make the aching go away.

With a determination bred into her by her mother, Betty composed herself and forced a smirk onto her face. "You gonna tell me what that means?"

"Nope." He said, dimples in full force.

"Cruel," She grinned.

"What can I say, Betty Cooper," he said, his voice low and breathy, "I'm a bad man."

Was that her ovaries that just squeezed together creating a pleasant increase in blood flow to all of her lady parts? Yup, that's what that was.

"Okay," she drew the word out and bit down on her lower lip. She watched his green eyed gaze focus there, his irises darkening, "are you gonna at least tell me which poem it's from?"

His eyelids narrowed and his pouty lips pursed as he considered her, then he nodded as though he had made a decision, "I'll tell you it's between poems five and fifteen, but that's all your getting from me."

"Well, that narrows it down, at least." Betty said as she thumbed the pages of the book.

The bell above the door chimed as a group of "bros" decked in blue and gold letterman jackets came pouring in. Jughead glanced over his shoulder at them then back to Betty. He wasn't ready for her to know about his altercation with the Bulldogs. It was too soon. It would pull her away from him and he…couldn't allow that. He wanted her near; as near as he could get her. He slapped the counter with an open palm and stood from the counter.

"Alright, princess," he smirked, "I think I've kept you to myself for long enough."

_No, you haven't! _It was the only though that went through Betty's mind. She didn't want him to go. Maybe ever…but in less than a blink, he had ducked out the door and she heard the telltale sound of his motorcycle firing up outside.

That night, when Betty got home after her shift, she gave only the barest of greetings to her parents before tearing up the stairs to her bedroom. In fact, she had really bordered on rude to them, but she couldn't bring herself to particularly care in that moment. She needed to figure out what poem Jughead had recited to her in the raspy, ridiculously sexy tone at the diner. Was it the Spanish that made it hot?

Nope. Just him. He could mutter to her in Pig-Latin and she was pretty sure her reaction would have been similar.

She started with poem number five, trying her best to recall the was the foreign words had sounded rolling off of his tongue, sounding them out in her own head to try to recognize them on the page.

She finally thought she had found them in poem number eleven…and dear Lord in heaven. If that was the poem that had made Jug think of her…they were decidedly not _friendly _thoughts.

"Oh…" she muttered to herself reading the English translation of the poem and tugging at the collar of the uniform she had not yet changed out of. Her cheeks flushed, her neck felt hot and she was having difficulty breathing. She could not recall any other time in her life when she had had feelings this…tense? Intense? Tingling?

Sexual?

She slammed the book of poetry closed and covered her face with both hands, her eyes darting to the window where she could see into Archie's bedroom. The lights were dark. He was either asleep or not in the room. Once again, guilt engulfed her.

Why had she never, not once in all of their years together, in all her years of knowing him, had she had these kind extreme, consuming, breathtaking feelings, _urges_ about Archie? About her boyfriend?

Friday night found Betty sitting the backseat of Chuck Clayton's convertible at the Twilight Drive-In with Archie at her side, Chuck in the driver's seat and Veronica up front in the passenger seat. It was freezing out, but the boys had insisted on putting the top down. They had each respectively claimed that they would "make sure you ladies stay warm." Archie kept peppering little kisses just behind her ear, his hand kept sliding up and down the inside of her jeans clad thigh. In front of her, she could see Veronica skillfully dodge an advance from Chuck even as she laughed and flirted. She was a master at stroking a guy's ego even as she rejected him.

Betty ducked away from Archie's lips and turned to look at him, one hand pressed against his chest to keep him at bay.

"Hey, Arch," she said, "I think we need popcorn, don't we?"

"Yes!" Veronica's voice bellowed from the front seat, "and soda. Cherry. Please."

Archie chuckled and slapped both hands on Chuck's shoulders. "Let's go, man. The girls need sustenance."

With that, their respective dates vacated the vehicle and headed for the snack bar. As soon as they were out of ear shot, Veronica spun in her seat.

"Tell me again why we're here?" she asked.

Betty laughed, "You lost your mind and agreed to a date with Chuck which I refused to let you do without backup."

"Oh, yeah," Veronica said, "I plead temporary insanity."

"Not exactly a stimulating conversationalist, our Chuck."

"If he tries to cop a feel one more time…"

"I didn't bring bail money, but I can always call Cher."

"Excellent!" Veronica beamed, "I love it when a plan comes together."

At that moment, the car gave a violent jostle as a body leapt the side and landed in the seat beside Betty. Her gaze darted over to where Jughead grinned at her from Archie's seat, his arm was stretched out across the back of the car behind her shoulders.

"Jug!" Betty exclaimed.

"Jug?" Veronica questioned from the front seat, her dark eyes trailing the length of Jughead's body, measuring, weighing, drawing conclusion, "Well, well."

"Hey there, princess," Jughead said and gave a tug at a loose lock of Betty's hair, then addressed her friend, "What's up, Fifth Avenue?"

"Excuse you, I am Park Avenue."

"My mistake."

"Don't make it again." Veronica chided, but Betty could see the underlying grin on her lips.

"My apologies," he grinned, then faced Betty, "You look like a girl in desperate need of some Twizzlers."

He offered her a large package of the sweet red candy. Betty smiled unreservedly at him, "I do, do I?"

"Obviously!" he nodded, "No cinematic experience is complete without Twizzlers. I'm a little disappointed in you, princess. You should know these things."

His fingertips, which had been trailing lightly up and down her neck, reached up to give her earlobe a gentle tug. Betty shift closer to his body, his warmth, "You're absolutely correct. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

He brought the package of candy up to open it without moving his other arm from around Betty so she was basically caged in his arms. As he crooked his elbow to bring his hands together, the motion drew her nearer. Near enough that her nose bumped against his jaw. Even as she fought against the urge to nuzzle him there, she didn't draw away. That was the closest they had ever been physically. She could feel the heat that radiated from his skin. She wanted to wrap herself up in that warmth; bask in it; drown in it. And damn, he smelled good. Like fresh cut grass and campfire smoke with something underneath; some essence that was all male and all Jughead. As the plastic ripped between his fingers, Jughead looked into her eyes, "I'll forgive the oversight this time."

"I appreciate that."

He drew a long, slender Twizzler from the package and offered it to her. On instinct and without breaking eye contact, Betty bit the end off of the candy as he held it out to her. Jughead's pupils blew wide and he brought the same end she had bitten to his own mouth to take a bite.

"You know," he said as he chewed and his eyes darted back and forth between her eyes and her lips, "I think strawberry is my new number one flavor."

"Oh, my," Veronica breathed from the front seat and Betty's head snapped forward to face her friend…whose presence she had completely forgotten.

Betty's head snapped forward to face the front of the car. "V!" her friend's name came out as little more than a puff of air pushed from her lungs.

"Forgot I was here, didn't you?" Veronica said with an arch of one dark, elegant brown.

"What? No!" Betty stammered.

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"As enjoyable as this has been," Jughead interrupted, "and it has been, I think it's time I make my exit."

He handed Betty the bag of Twizzlers before he propelled himself over the side of the car and turned back to them, "You ladies have a lovely night. Nice to meet you, Park Avenue."

"Highness," Veronica countered.

Jughead smirked at her before he turned his gaze to lock onto Betty, "I like this one. I'll see you later, princess."

With that, he sauntered away. Both Betty and Veronica craned their necks to watch him cross the drive-in parking lot to where a dozen motorcycles were parked along the back chain-linked fence. When he had reached a sufficient distance, Veronic sank back down into her seat and stared at her dearest friend.

"What was that?" she asked.

"_That _was Jughead." Betty answered.

"He's pretty."

"I know."

"I mean, my God, he's attractive."

"I know!"

"You, my sweet B, are in soooo much trouble."

"I know."

It was about that moment, when Jughead vacated the car maybe two minutes before, that Chuck and Archie reappeared with their arms laden with popcorn and sodas. When Archie began to offer the bag of popcorn to Betty, the popcorn she had sent him to purchase, he paused because his eyes landed on the open package of Twizzlers in her lap; the package she had not had when he had left the vehicle a few minutes earlier.

"Where'd those come from?" he asked.

Betty froze. Her mind blanked. She had no idea what to say or how to answer him. The only sentences that kept running through her brain was _Jughead brought them to me. Jughead brought them to me. Jughead put his arm around me. _Instinct had her eyes darting to Veronica.

"Kevin!" Veronica answered, her expression completely calm, the tremble in her voice undoubtedly only noticeable to Betty because of their years of closeness. "Yeah, Kev came by. He and that pretty eyed serpent he's been seeing are sneaking off to the woods so he—gave B and me his candy. Said he didn't need the calories, that ridiculous drama queen."

It was absolutely something that Kevin would do.

"Awesome," Archie responded without question before he bounded over the side of the car and plopped back into the seat at Betty's side.

She couldn't help but compare the movement. Archie had cleared the side of the car with ease; he was an all-star athlete. He landed with a_ thump _like a gorilla. Jughead too had easily leapt into the car, but his landed had been smooth and graceful…like a cat. A predatory cat.

As though intending to break into her train of thought about the other boy, Archie reached over and plucked a red piece of candy from her lap and Betty had to fight back the kneejerk reaction to snatch it from his fingers and smack him upside the head with it. That candy had not been intended for him!

Her anger was irrational and she beat it back into submission, but she couldn't help but feel tense for the remainder of the movie. Of course, Veronica was the only one to pick up on this as she kept peering over her shoulder to check on her. Chuck was oblivious and had eyes only for Veronica, or more accurately her thighs, which he kept trying to grab despite her irritation thinly veiled behind giggles and not-so-playful slaps.

Archie was…well, Archie. He pulled her close to him and kept pressing kisses to her jawline and throat. Every now and then he reach the corner of her mouth and try to get her to turn to him, but she would twist away and point toward the screen as though she really wanted to know how "_Nightmare on Elm Street" _ended.

When the credits to the movie rolled, Jughead watched from within the throng of his brothers as the dark blue convertible pulled through the parking lot toward the exit. In the backseat sat Betty, wrapped in the arms of her douchebag boyfriend. The sight caused an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation to roll in the pit of Jughead's gut. It wasn't a feeling he could ever remember having felt before and he certainly did not care for it.

The unpleasantness temporarily abated though when bright green eyes locked on his, immediately to be followed by a brilliant white smile. She didn't look away. In fact, if he were a betting kind of man, he'd say his sweet little Northside princess had sought him out. She kept her gaze on him until the jock driver of the car turned the corner and he could no longer see her.

God, was there a more gorgeous creature on the planet than Betty Cooper. If there was, he sure as hell hadn't encountered her.

"Jug!" Sweet Pea called over the strangely comforting roar of motorcycle engines grumbling to life across the rows of bikers, "Let's roll, Boss!"

Jughead gave him a nod, but then turned to stare for just a moment more into the direction that his girl had disappeared into.

'_Wait' _he thought, almost at once. His girl? Since when did he start thinking in terms of _anyone _being his girl? He thought on that shiny hair, the big eyes and all that soft, soft skin and then chuckled to himself.

'_My girl,' _he thought, _'It has a nice ring to it.' _

AN:

The poem Jughead recited is from "100 Love Poems" by Pablo Neruda. It is an excerpt from XI. The English translation is :

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets,

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body

Author's Note : Okay, so, Betty and Jug are getting closer… hehehehe. What do you think? Should he kiss her already and show her what she has been missing with Archie?

Leave a comment! Let me know!


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note : This chapter kept kinda growing on me! Sorry it took so long. With the holidays and life in general, I am just trying to update as often as I am able! Please, please, please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer : Don't own em. Like em a lot.

Chapter Seven Song Choice : "Desire" by Meg Myers

Chapter Seven :

Early Saturday morning, Jughead guided his bike; leaned easily into the turn that led to the gravel driveway of his father's trailer. His relationship with FP was a complicated one, though it was decidedly better at present than is had been a mere two years previous. He coasted to a stop, braced one booted foot on the ground and kicked down the metal stand with the other. After he'd pulled off his helmet and ran a big hand over his hair, he let his eyes wander across the rows a Sunnyside Trailer Park. He scanned the lines of mobile homes, dull and tinted a shadowy gray even bathed in the orangish light of rising sun. It had been his home through most of his formative years; the good years, the bad years, the mediocre years in between.

He had only moved out of the trailer about one year ago and presently resided in a small apartment over the Wyrm. He spent most of his time there anyway. If he wasn't hanging out with Sweet Pea and Fangs at the bar, he was working behind it. The family business and all that.

He smiled a little to himself as he dismounted the bike and strode toward the front door. Business at the bar was good; in fact it was excellent. It was going so well that Jughead had at one point asked his father why he didn't get himself a nice house and get the hell out of the trailer park. FP had scoffed at the question.

"What the hell do I need some big fancy house for?" he'd said, "It's just me."

FP had always fancied himself a simple man. Jughead could understand that. He considered himself much the same, though there was certainly something to be said about being in the position where he could afford some of the finer things in life. An image of whisking a green eyed beauty away to a lavish dinner while she was draped in a slinky dress ran unbidden through his mind. He knew a little café in Greendale that he had a feeling she would love. She deserved some pampering; to be wined and dined in a place that really knew how to treat the customers. He shook the thought from his brain as he reached the top of his father's wooden deck to push open the front door. His thoughts had been veering off into odd territory with that girl way too often as of late. He needed to get himself back on track.

He pushed into the trailer without knocking and caught sight of his father. FP was sitting at the small table that sat against the far wall of the kitchen, papers were scattered around him and a pair of reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose. Jughead grinned and tossed his helmet down on a side table.

"Hey there, old man!"

FP peered up from his paperwork to look at his son. Jughead flung himself onto one of the two matching outdated brown patterned sofas in the living room. They were ugly as hell but were quite possibly the most comfortable couches in existence. Period.

"Old man?" FP said, one side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, "I can still whoop your ass, boy."

"Like to see you try."

"Damn, boy," FP said as he took in Jughead's red cheeks and nose, "there's fresh coffee. Get some. Warm up. You look like you're about to keel over from hypothermia."

Jughead chuckled and, not without a small bit of reluctance, hoisted himself up off of the sofa, "I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one."

FP gave another laugh as he scribbled a note onto one of the pages in front of him before he tossed the pen down, plucked the glasses from his nose and dropped them down beside the pen. He drew a cigarette from the pack that rested by his elbow on the table and then held the pack out in offering to Jughead as he entered the kitchen toward the ancient relic of a coffee pot. Jughead took two from the proffered pack, tucked one behind his ear and then allowed FP to light the other for him. FP then lit his own cigarette as Jughead crossed to the counter to pull a coffee mug from the cabinet.

"It's maybe thirty degrees out, Jug," FP said on a stream of smoke, "why the hell didn't you drive the charger?"

Jughead spun to face him as he poured the steaming dark liquid into his mug, "You mean to say you're gonna take the truck today?"

FP flashed a grin that Jughead immediately returned. Like father like son.

"Didn't think so."

He took a long pull on his cigarette and carried his cup over to the table to join his father. "What's that?" he asked and flicked his cigarette over the plastic ashtray.

"Shipment coming in on Wednesday. Gotta be processed and out the door by Saturday."

"Three day turn around? What assholes had the audacity to ask for that?"

FP shrugged, "Eh, we're expediting the order to please a new customer."

"New Customer? What new customer?"

The frightening smile that crossed his father's face was that of a shark, "Shankman."

"Shit!" Jughead breathed and let his head fall back against the chair, "That's gonna go over like a lead fuckin' balloon."

"You can handle it."

"Yeah," Jug straightened in his seat, "well, I haven't had the chance to punch Malachi in the face in a while. I wouldn't wanna get outta practice."

"Yeah, just be cautious with that one. I think he might have rabies."

Even as Jug chuckled at his father, his mind was whirling, working logistics. Three days was not a standard turn around. There was a lot to do with not a lot of time. He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the table, "Okay, then. How many crates?"

FP hesitated. That was never a good sign.

"Dad-"

"Six."

"Fuck!"

"I know it seems like a lot-" FP leaned forward in his chair and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

"Seems?" Jughead exclaimed, "Christ, dad! Six crates in three days…"

"How much manpower do you need?"

Jughead took a pull from his own smoke and then let his head fall back as he emptied it from his lungs in a long steady stream. He didn't just pop off a number in response, nor was that something that FP would have expected of him. One of the reasons Jug had risen through the ranks as he had was very little to do with being the 'prince' and more to do with that big brain of his that he wasn't afraid to use. He thought shit through; his current personal vendetta notwithstanding. After a long moment of mental calculation, he finally spoke.

"Two guys unpacking, at least six to dismantle, clean and reassemble. Repacking takes more time and care so I'd want three on that. I also want at least two random test fires per crate to spot check. I don't want another debacle like we had with Ricker. One guy to do the inventory and processing, a driver and backup. I'm thinking…twelve; ten minimum if we double up some roles. But I don't want any fuckin' newbs. No prospects. This had gotta be done quick but it also needs to be done right."

"Prospects can unpack. Not much to screw up there. And the test firing."

Jughead grinned, "The unpacking yeah, maybe. Not the testing. That's the best part. They gotta earn that right."

FP chuckled and stood to refill his own coffee cup, "True enough. Any thoughts on who you want on this?"

"My crew, obviously. That's four out the gate that I can trust not to fuck it up."

FP quirked an eyebrow, "You trust Pea not to be a fuck up?"

"To be fair, he usually only screws up his personal life; not the club business."

Father and son both laughed at the truth of the statement. Sweet Pea was like second son to FP so he felt obligated to razz the kid. They said nothing behind his back that they wouldn't say to his face. The laughter faded and there was a lengthy pause as FP sipped his coffee and Jug chose his next words with care.

"I can tell you who I for damn sure don't want."

FP let out a sigh that bespoke of pure exhaustion from an argument that had been a constant battle of wills between familiar adversaries.

"Dammit, boy-"

"No!" Jughead cut his father off, unwilling to bend on this, "Fuck him. Keep him away from this. This is non-negotiable for me. You want me to run it, keep him away."

"Jug, Tall Boy has been around longer than-"

"Believe me, I know. He's ancient. A fuckin' relic. You want this order done quickly, smoothly and without blood, you keep that luddite away from me, my crew and my operation."

"Your operation?"

Jug ignored him and barreled onward, "And while we're at it, keep his moron kid away, too."

"Goddammit!"

"Tonsils is an idiot. And if he tries to shove his hand up Toni's skirt one more time, I'm gonna cut his fingers off and feed them to him!"

FP collapsed into his chair on a long suffering breath before his squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I'll send Tall Boy and Tonsils on a run. They'll be out of your way."

Jughead nodded. Then he and his father began to compile a list of men to work alongside his crew.

By the time Jughead left the trailer park, he was exhausted. He loved his father, but the man was both mentally and emotionally draining. He needed a beer, a burger and a bed. The fantasy was only improved by the idea of a pretty blonde waiting for him in that bed; not just any pretty blonde mind you. A pretty, blonde Betty.

He chuckled at himself and opened up the throttle of his bike a little bit more. Four B's; that's all he needed to be content.

Burger, beer, bed, and Betty.

Cruising back toward the promise of his cozy bed above the Wyrm, on the horizon he spotted a dark blue sedan that even at a distance struck him as somewhat familiar. As he drew nearer, he saw that the hood was up and as he passed, he spotted that iconic golden ponytail. He didn't even fight his grin as he guided his bike into a skillful u-turn and glided to a stop in front of her car.

He pushed his kickstand down and pulled off his helmet, "Hey there, princess. Goin' my way?"

Betty knew she must have looked like a complete fool with the smile that had split her face practically in two as Jughead had come to a stop in front of her bumper. She leaned a hip against her front quarter panel and watched with no small amount of feminine appreciation as he dismounted his motorcycle.

"Hey, Juggie." He looked unreasonably good for having just pulled a full faced helmet from his head. He had forgone the beanie, probably uncomfortable under the helmet, and ran a large hand over his head after he had removed his headgear. Apparently, helmet hair did not dare come near Jughead Jones's midnight locks. Instead of being flattened to his head, those dark strands stood in charming disarray; an "I just rolled from bed after hours of sex" look that Betty found appealing, exciting and very difficult to pull her eyes away from.

He set his helmet on the bike seat and sauntered toward her all long legged and loose limbed and she felt that increasingly recognizable zing in her belly. He walked over to the opposite side of her car, leaned forward and braced himself on his elbows, his arms folded toward his chest and crossed at the wrists. He then fixed an exaggeratedly serious expression on his face and said, "You need some help here, little lady?"

"Wow," Betty deadpanned with an arch of her eyebrow, "Ignoring the blatant chauvinism of that remark, the answer is no. I am fairly confident it's the alternator, which is neither terribly expensive nor difficult to get to, however, I can't do it-" she held her arms out wide to indicate her surroundings, "here."

"Ah," Jughead nodded, then froze and tilted his head to the side like an inquisitive cat, "Wait a sec. Are you a gear-head, Cooper?"

All of the sudden, Betty felt shy. In her past experiences, boys did not like it when she, a girl, knew more about cars than they did.

"Uh, yeah, sort of," she hedged, "My dad started teaching me to restore old cars when I was about seven. It's something we do together."

"Holy Christ, woman," Jughead breathed, "do you have any idea how hot that is?"

Despite the chill in the air, Betty felt like the tips of her ears were on fire. She smiled a little to try and mask her unexpected feelings of bashfulness. "Oh, I doubt you'd say that if you saw me all sweaty and covered in grease."

She heard a distinct catch in his breathing and could have sworn that from her peripheral vision, caught a quick glimpse of him adjust himself through his jeans.

He cleared his throat, "I'm gonna have to beg to differ on that one."

The husky quality of his voice seemed to have a direct affect on all of Betty's lady parts; every single one of them. When she managed to drag her gaze up to meet his, the heat that she found behind those piercing greens of his almost brought a whimper to her lips. Ever since she had met this alluring, exciting, dangerous man, Betty had experienced so many new sensations, she didn't know what to do with them all. She didn't know how to classify, categorize and organize them into the boxes she kept in her mental library. They were new, unknown, un-experienced up to this point in her life.

Jughead held her gaze for a prolonged moment before he cleared his throat again and jerked his chin toward his bike.

"I'm impressed. I can do damn near anything with a bike but a beast like this," he gestured to her little car's engine, "confuses the shit outta me."

Betty grinned, "It takes a big man to admit that."

"Hey," Jughead countered with his own arrogant smirk, "don't try to force your societal, conformist ideals of masculinity on me, Cooper."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Jones."

"So," he straightened and slapped both palms against the side of her car, "what's the game plan?"

At that, Betty shrugged and answered, "Triple A," to which Jughead made a rude noise.

"Triple A? For what, a tow?"

"Well, yeah, Juggie. I can't drag it to the garage."

"You're gonna be outta pocket your deductible."

"Are you suggesting I leave my car on the side of the road?"

"No. I'm suggesting you let me call a guy that owes me a favor and have it towed wherever you want it for free."

Betty stepped around to the front of the car, "You wanna waste that favor on little ole me, Juggie?"

Jughead moved to join her.

"No one I'd rather use it on. I won't call it a waste." He pulled his phone from his pocket and sat down on her front bumper, "Where do you want it?"

"My house is fine."

"Hey, Nook," he said into the phone, "I need a tow."

As he continued the conversation, Betty closed the distance between them just a little bit more, her knee bumping against his. He shifted his position the slightest bit and suddenly, Betty found herself standing between his spread legs, her fingers fiddling with a metal snap that hung loose on his leather jacket and Jughead's free hand resting casually against the back of her thigh. She hadn't a clue how she had ended up in the rather intimate stance, but she couldn't bring herself to move away…or feel upset about it. Instead, she continued to play with the snap and let herself enjoy the warmth of his large hand through the denim of her jeans.

Jughead continued to rattle off instructions to "Nook" on the phone while Betty's gaze zeroed in on the dark lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. God, God, the man's hair could be classified as an aphrodisiac. She wanted to touch it, pet it, tangle her fingers deep within it. He was deep in his conversation, so she took advantage of the opportunity to study his beautiful face. As she allowed herself to appreciate the symmetry and cut of his jawline, she felt the absentminded caress as he trailed his hand from the back of her thigh up to her hip and back down again. He didn't seem to be thinking about what he was doing with his hand, it was just an instinct. A comfort. She released the metal snap she had been toying with and gave in to her desire, reached up and twirled a lock of his hair around her fingers. It was fluffy and soft like kitten fur. He squeezed the back of her leg and leaned ever so slightly into her touch. Without even trying to fight the impulse, Betty slid her hand back through the dark strands along his scalp. She watched as his eyelids drifted closed for a heartbeat before the reopened to lock onto her own. In that moment, Betty thought he looked every inch the well-stroked cat.

"Alright, man. Later." He said, ended the call and shoved his phone back into his jeans' pocket. He then rested his hands on both her hips and drew her closer to his body between his spread legs. As he stared up at her with a sweet smile on his lips, Betty couldn't resist giving his head another stoke.

"Nook'll be here in about twenty minutes," he said, "You want a ride?"

Butterflies did not seem to be an appropriate descriptor for the feeling in her stomach at the idea of climbing onto Jughead's motorcycle with him. She knew her eyes were probably shone with the brightness of a lunatic as she nodded her enthusiasm at the proposal. Jughead stood from the bumper, turned and dropped the hood of the car before he turned and led her by the hand over to his bike.

She watched him as he kicked a long, jeans clad leg over the machine to straddle it before he offered her his helmet.

"It won't fit you properly, but it's better than nothing." He said with a wink.

No. Butterflies was definitely not the correct word. Firecrackers. Roller coasters. Crashing ocean waves. The feeling in her stomach was something so much more powerful and intense that the fluttering of some puny, insignificant insect.

Jughead offered her his hand after she had secured the helmet to her head to help steady her as she mounted the seat behind him.

He looked back over his shoulder at her, "You hold on tight and I lean, you lean, heard?"

Betty nodded.

Once he kicked the bike to life, Betty felt the rumbling vibration sink into the very core of her being. There was something inexplicably visceral about the power of the machine beneath her while at the same time she had Jughead between her legs. It wasn't a feeling that she could remember having ever felt before. She wanted to wrap herself in it, bathe in it, live in it. Instead, she wrapped herself just a little tighter around Jughead. She hugged her arms around his torso and squeezed her hips snuggly around his thighs.

Then with a jolt that sent an audible _WHOOSH _of air from Betty's lungs, the bike shot forward and her grip on Jughead tightened even more. She could feel the shake that went through his body as he let out chuckle more than she could her the sound of it.

Jug took care with Betty on the back of his bike. He definitely wouldn't complain about having those legs straddling his hips. He didn't want to scare her with his driving, but he wanted to give her a little bit of thrill. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to gauge her expression and when he clocked the wide, bright smile on her face, he grinned to himself and opened up the throttle. He heard her squeal at the same time she squeezed his abdomen.

He zipped around curves and reveled in the sensation of Betty's body moving in sync with his, like she was just an extension of his own. _God, _the thought came unbidden, _the things I could do with that body. _

The things he _would _do to that body.

When he spotted a three-way stop coming, _the _three-way stop, he once again eased the bike to the side of the road and killed the engine before he planted both feet on the ground to balance them. Betty looked around, confused.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked.

He twisted his body to face her as best he could, "So, I have a decision for you to make. We turn left up here, we end up in your neighborhood."

Betty nodded.

"Where I'll drop you…probably a block from your house cause you don't want your mom to see you on a bike?"

Betty chuckled at that, "She'd be upset but you giving me a ride is hardly the end of the world. You can drop me home."

"Okay, let's say I do that. I drop you off. You go inside, probably call that boyfriend of yours, work on some homework and then settle in for a nice family dinner. Sound about right?"

"Doesn't sound wrong." Betty replied, still grinning at him, but she had narrowed her eyes as though he were a puzzle she was trying to work out.

"_Or,_" he said, "we turn right."

"What's to the right?"

"The South Side. You choose right and I take you on a little adventure for the day."

He watched her pretty green eyes dart back and forth between the two directions, before settling back on him as she sank straight white teeth into that plump bottom lip of hers.

"What'll it be, princess?"

She released her lip from her teeth only for her tiny pink tongue to dart out and give it a lick. Jug felt his dick get halfway hard and quickly repositioned himself on the bike.

"Right," Betty blurted.

"Atta girl!" He grinned and kicked the motorcycle back to life before she could change her mind.

_What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? _

The question had been running incessantly through Betty's mind since she had made the decision to venture with Jughead into the South Side. It had been like she couldn't stop the choice from coming out of her mouth, like it hadn't been a choice at all but a…reflex; something that she had needed to do.

They rode on for another fifteen minutes, trees and houses and road flying past in a haze. The houses had started to get a little dingier, a little more run down; the cars started to look a little older but well maintained; the surroundings just seemed to get a little rougher all around.

Jughead guided them through a maze of some twisting roads before he turned into a gravel parking lot to what appeared to be a bar. Her eyes went up to the lettering of the sign.

_Whyte Wyrm._

It was the bar that the football team talked about all the time. They didn't check for IDs or something like that. Archie had mentioned it before. It was somewhere that he frequented on his "boys' nights." She felt an uncomfortable tightening in her stomach though she knew that he wouldn't be there. It wasn't even the idea that he would catch her; it was the idea that maybe Jug and Archie had crossed paths. She wanted to keep Jughead to herself in a weirdly possessive way. She climbed off the bike and unlatched the helmet from under her chin as Jughead dismounted after her. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You okay, there, princess?"

"Yeah!" Betty said quickly, "Yeah! Of course!"

Jughead flashed her a knowing smirk, like he was privy to all of her secrets. He held his hand out to her. Betty had to take a deep steadying breath as stared at his outstretched hand. There was a voice in the back of her head that told her she was in over her head; that she was delving into a world that she not only didn't know but didn't understand; that she was about to place herself in a situation where something was going to change; her life was going to change. The natural human inclination to be hesitant of change made her question whether she had made the right decision in coming with Jughead…but then her gaze traveled from his hand to his deep green eyes…and all that hesitation simply melted away to be replaced with a golden warmth. She slipped her hand into his and let him lead her across the parking lot and into the infamous serpent bar.

Jughead wanted to beat his chest. He wanted to toss Betty over his shoulder, carry her up to his apartment and have her all to himself. There was something about having her there, in the South Side, _his _kingdom that lit a fire in his belly. It felt like _she _was _his. _

He opened the door to the Wyrm and held it, stepped to the side so she could proceed him into the building. He stepped over to where Sweet Pea was leaned against the wall and with little more than a tilt of his chin, bummed a cigarette from his second while he watched Betty step deeper into the bar.

The lights were dim and red and hazy with smoke and he couldn't help but think how it was juxtaposed to the girl in front of him. His home, his den of snakes and sin seemed to make her beauty and cleanness and purity shine all the brighter and it damn near took his breath away.

"You got blondie here." Sweet Pea as he snapped his Zippo open to light Jughead's cigarette for him.

Jug took a drag and nodded on his exhale. "We got a shipment coming in Wednesday. Going out Saturday."

"That's not a hell of a long turn time. How many?"

"Six crates."

"Six f- are you shitting me?"

"My understanding is it's a one time thing to impress a new customer."

"Who's the new customer."

At that, Jughead grinned, "FP poached Shankman."

Sweet Pea's eyes widened to an almost comical variety and then he belted out a loud belly laugh and slapped Jughead on the shoulder. "Hell, yeah! I'll process six crates in three days myself to see that knife twist!"

"Glad you feel that way. Let Toni, Joaquin and Fangs know. I need y'all on it. Put together a list of who you wanna work with and I'll make it happen." He watched as Betty drifted further into the bar, almost to its center, her gaze lingering on the stage, specifically the poles on the stage. There were no dancers out right now, but he knew she was putting it together. He gave Sweet Pea's stomach a playful swat and then started toward the bar, "For now I have a pretty blonde to entertain."

He all but jogged across the room to where Hogeye was manning the bar.

"Hey Hogeye, can I get a Modelo and…" He glanced over a Betty, contemplated what she might enjoy, "and a Red Stripe."

Hogeye winker and popped the tops on both of the beers for him. He picked the bottles up with one hand and sauntered over to where Betty was standing, her eyes still on the stage.

Betty stared at the stage, lit up in red lights that reflected oblong patterns off of the three stainless steel poles that stood in a triangle formation across it. When he spoke, it was right against her ear, his warm breath blew against her cheek bone.

"Shows start at six pm if you're interested."

"Oh!" she turned to face him, then looked back and forth between him and the stage several times, so much so that she almost felt like a bobble-head. She probably looked like one too which was not the impression she really wanted to make with him. "Is it…are those…do…um…"

Jughead took a pull from his cigarette and nodded at her, "Mmhmm."

"Oh. Okay." She started nodding as well and increased her bobble-head aesthetic, "Do you…um…have you ever…"

"I'm a red-blooded American young male who identifies as heterosexual, Betty. Yes, I've watched."

"Oh. Okay. Often?"

Jughead laughed, a deep and rasping sound that went right to Betty's stomach.

"I'll put it this way, Betts, I'm not exactly the type who has to pay for it, okay?"

Betty turned to face him at that. She could feel as heat flooded her cheeks.

_Of course he doesn't have to…that wasn't what I was…God, just kill me now. _The thoughts moved through her head a such a rate that she couldn't quite keep them all straight. How had he managed to frazzle her so? She'd been around him enough at that point that she would have thought that her nerves would be faded but… they seemed to be back in full force in this place.

"C'mon," he said and offered a squat brown bottle with a red label, "here. Sugar cane beer from Jamaica. You'll like it. Let's play a game."

He jerked his head toward the pool tables in the back corner of the bar. Betty took the bottle from him and let him guide her over to the tables. Betty watched as he jerked his chin again, this time to the four mean who were currently playing a game on table. Each of them nodded back and then without preamble of complaint, packed up and left the table. Betty tilted her head to the side and studied him as he slipped his heavy leather jacket from his shoulders and draped it on a nearby stool.

"People seem to jump to do what you say, huh?" she teased.

"Perks of being the serpent prince, baby," he tossed back with a grin.

"Ah, I see," Betty laughed as she unbuttoned her own grey pea coat and lay it on top of his leather.

Jughead circled the table and started dropping heavy balls that hit the green felt with a thunk. "You ever play before?" he asked.

"I've watched people play. I understand the basic rules and concept, but no. I myself have never."

His smile was predatory, "Well, alright then."

Halfway through their first game and a second beer later, Betty was not only frustrated but she was fairly certain that Jughead was toying with her. She stood from where she was bent over the table and let out a growl as she watched the white cue ball drop into a side pocket. That was the third time she had scratched.

"Why am I so bad at this?" she snarled.

Jughead laughed and pushed up from the stool that he had been perched on. "You're holding the cue stick wrong, too tight." He set his beer on the side of the table and pulled her to stand in front of him, "Here, let me show you."

"Is this a move?" Betty asked with a smirk, "Cause this feels like a move."

"Only if you want it to be, princess." He grinned back. He wrapped his arms around her and positioned the cue in her fingers, "Hold it like a bird. Not tight enough to crush it, but firm enough so it doesn't get away. And then, loop this finger over this one just to guide it where you want it to go."

He bent forward at the waist, forcing her to do the same. Betty could feel him pressed snug against her from behind and thought she might start hyperventilating. It was like the motorcycle again but multiplied by about a million. She was enveloped in him; his warmth, his breath, his scent, his body. Everything that made Jughead Jughead had surrounded her and oh what a feeling it was.

He guided her hands to pull back and snap forward and she watched as the white ball darted forward and smacked the yellow one ball into a corner pocket.

Without letting her straighten, Jughead turned his face so the tip of his nose caressed her cheekbone before he breathed into her ear, "See?"

Betty's voice was embarrassingly shaky, "yeah."

Jughead stepped away from her and immediately missed the feeling of her firm little body. He leaned back and rested his hips against the billiards table as he picked up his beer.

"So, princess," he started and watched as she turned and mirrored his pose, leaned back against the table. There was a question that he was going to ask her and he knew it was going to make her uncomfortable. She was too sweet, to innocent for it not to. But he had to know. "This boyfriend of yours, he the only guy you ever been with?"

Betty's gaze snapped up to meet his, her bright eyes impossibly large. "What?" she stumbled over the words, "We…I … that is…I mean…"

"Oh," Jughead said and felt his heart rate speed up, "You haven't yet."

Betty was blushing that touchable, inviting shade of pink that she had a tendency to turn.

"How about this?" he went on, "He the only guy you ever kissed?"

"That's really none of your business." She said, but she dropped her gaze and wouldn't meet his eyes.

Jughead pushed away from the table and stepped in front of her, invaded her space. "That means yes."

Her eyes were locked onto his collarbone and didn't appear to be about to move.

"Let me ask you this; you ever _think _about kissing someone else?"

She did look up at that and he watched with a distinct sense of satisfaction as her pupils dilated so that the green of her eyes all but disappeared. They dropped to his mouth and then back up to his eyes.

"Of course not." She said.

"Now, now, now," Jughead tsked and moved so his body was flush with hers, braced his arms on either side of her hips, bracketed her in, "Betty Cooper, that was just a flat out lie."

With that, he moved.

He moved slowly. He didn't just pounce on her. He made sure she knew what he was doing as he leaned toward her; he gave her plenty of time to move away should she choose to do so. She did not.

His lips brushed hers and they were soft and warm and slick and as sweet as honey and he wanted to nibble on them for the rest of his life.

_Lemme in, _he thought.

Betty's pool cue dropped from her grasp and clattered to the dirty bar floor.

_Lemme in. _

Her hands floated up over his biceps and shoulder to cup his jaw.

_Lemme in. _

With a delectable little moan from somewhere in the back of her throat, Betty's lips parted.

_YES!_

Jughead did not hesitate. As soon as those lips gave and granted him entrance, he took it. He licked into her mouth with a hunger that he had never before experienced. He gave himself over to the kiss; he used his entire body. He kissed her with his tongue, with his teeth. He wanted to swallow her, absorb her, possess her.

When Jughead Jones looked back at this time in his life, he would pinpoint this moment, the moment his lips met hers, as the moment his pursuit of Betty Cooper ceased to be even a fraction of a percentage about revenge against Archie Andrews and became completely and totally about Betty Cooper. He wanted her. He wanted her for himself in whatever way, shape or form he could get her. If he could breathe her, he would.

Even after just that brief, Earth-shattering moment, he already know that he would never tire of the taste of her. He pushed his thigh between her legs and was rewarded with another delightful noise from her.

Then, all at once, on a gasp Betty jerked her head to side, breaking the kiss and pulling her mouth away from his. She pushed both hands against his chest and forced him to take two stumbling steps back. She pressed her palms against her flaming red cheeks and then rushed over to her jacket.

"I'm sorry…I can't…I didn't…"

She didn't ever complete her thought. Instead, she turned and rushed for the bar exit.

"Fangs!" Jughead called. In less than ten seconds, the young man was by his side, Sweet Pea not far behind. Jughead pulled his phone from his pocket, swiped to unlock it and handed it to Fangs. "Get her an Uber and make sure she gets in. And make sure the driver knows who's tracking the ride!"

Fangs nodded and took off after Betty.

"You not going after her yourself?" Sweet Pea asked as he took his place by Jug's side.

Jughead shook his head in reply, "Too much, too fast. She needs a little time."

Author's Note : So, they finally kissed! Sure, Betty freaked out a little but… well, you know! She's a good person and very confused right now. What do you think is gonna happen next? I am curious to hear theories!

Leave a comment! Let me know!


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note : So, this is the aftermath of the kiss. Fair warning; there is a little bit of smut. Self smut, really. But this is where it begins.

Disclaimer : Don't own em. Like em a lot.

Chapter Eight Song Choice : "Bad Things" by Milky Chance ft. Izzy Bizu

Chapter Eight:

"My God, cousin, you look like hell."

Betty's eyes narrowed into brilliant green slivers as she stared across the counter at Cheryl.

"Cher!" Veronica scolded from her seat beside the redhead.

"What?" Cheryl asked, a picture of innocence, "Am I supposed to pretend that I don't see the huge black bags under her eyes? I mean, really Betty, you look like you haven't slept in a year."

"I didn't sleep well last night, okay?" Betty hissed at her friends, "Now, are you two gonna order something or are you just trying to take up my valuable counter space?"

Veronica grinned, "Double Chocolate shake?"

"Strawberry for me!" Cheryl added.

"Okay, one strawberry and one chocolate chocolate," Betty said as she scribbled the order down on her notepad.

"Say," Cheryl went on and quirked a single perfectly groomed eyebrow, "this wouldn't have anything to do with the tall, dark and brooding drive-in crasher, would it?"

Betty glared at Veronica, who choked on a laugh.

"Funny story, true story-" Veronica began just as Betty their order from her notepad with probably a touch more violence than was necessary. However, once Betty turned away to put in the order for their shakes, she heard V continue talking, "I swear to God, Cher, you should have seen. The way that boy was looking at her, woo, I think I got a contact buzz from it."

"I do love you, my sweet V, but this information is neither surprising nor unusual. You've seen Betty! She's-"

"No! I know! But believe me, this was different. He looked at her like it was a privilege to do so."

"Oooh…"

"Exactly."

With a thunk, Betty sat their milkshakes in front of them. They were in two Styrofoam cups rather than the usual decorative malt glasses. Cherly and Veronica looked from the shakes to Betty.

"I take this to mean we're leaving?" Cheryl commented.

Betty's reply to the question was a smile that was sickeningly saccharine.

Cheryl rolled her eyes, pushed herself up on the counter and hit Betty with smacking kiss right on her right cheek bone, leaving behind a bright red lip print.

"Love you, Betty Boop," she said and snatched her shake and headed for the door.

Veronica kissed her own fingertips and waggled them in Betty's direction before following Cheryl out the door.

Out of habit, Betty grabbed a damp rag and wiped down the counter where they had been sitting, despite that they didn't eat and the counter was clean. It was mindless, automatic. She regretted kicking V and Cher out. She hadn't wanted their prying, but at least they had served as a decent distraction. Without their presence, her mind returned to the previous night.

She hadn't lied to Cheryl. She hadn't slept well; but not for the reasons the reasons that she had originally expected to sleep poorly.

When Jughead had kissed her, his lips warm and just a little rough, like he had a tendency to chew on them, the feeling that had rushed through her body at the feel of his lips had been unlike anything she had ever experienced. He had tasted of cigarettes and alcohol and mint and honey. The combination shouldn't have worked, but it did. It had been so easy, so natural to fall into that kiss. It had felt…right.

And then had come the guilt. Archie. She had a boyfriend. She was not the girl who went around kissing other guys when she was committed to someone. But she had never felt as at ease with Archie in a physical sense as she had felt in that singular moment spent in Jughead's arms.

That was why she had pushed him away and…fled.

That night, after the Uber that Jug had paid for had dropped her home, she had expected to continue roiling in those feelings of guilt and shame.

But that was not what had befallen her mind that night.

Instead, her fevered brain had returned time and again to that kiss.

She had lain in bed, touched her fingertips to her lips and felt Jughead's mouth on hers. She had remembered his tongue as it had danced against her own. As she had let the recollections of his arms and eyes and tongue race through her mind, she had also begun to feel the stirring of her own blood low in her body. She had tossed and turned beneath her sheets and pressed her thighs tight together in the hopes of some relief. She thought back as well to when she had first met Jug, when he had pulled her hips tight against his own. It had been less than five seconds of contact, but she still remembered every one of them. Her breast felt heavy and swollen…achy.

She touched them. She slid her hands over them and gave gentle squeeze before sliding her fingers lower, over her abdomen and then further down. She pressed her palm against her center over her cotton pajama shorts. The pressure felt splendid. Her hips bucked against her own hand instinctually.

It wasn't enough.

She slipped her hand beneath her shorts, beneath her panties.

She was wet. It almost embarrassed her as she had never been that wet before. She slid two fingers along her folds. The feeling was fantastic, like nothing she had ever experienced. Then, her fingertips brushed against her clit, that tiny, wonderful, little bundle of nerves and she gasped audibly.

Shocked and somewhat mortified at the lack of control of her own body, she slapped her free hand over her own mouth to stifle any future sounds. Then she focused her touch, rubbed tight little circles around that little nub of pleasure. She thought of green eyes, rough lips, large warm hands, that biting smirk. She thought of those things and she wanted. She wanted so deeply.

Her body responded the images her mind conjured. She felt a pressure as it built at the base of her spine, as it pulled at the tightened muscles of her stomach, every muscle in her body tensed. Then it all became too much, too sensitive. Her hips seemed to have a mind of their own as they thrust back away from her own hand and she jerked her fingers free. Tears of frustration filled her eyes and she turned to release a groan into her pillow. She felt as though there was something grand and life-changing hanging out there in the ether just beyond her reach. Her body was still tense and wanting with no sign of relief in sight. And it pained her.

So, she had slept poorly.

That frustration, that horrible gut clenching need from something not only unknown, but seemingly intangible had caused what sleep Betty was able to get to be restless and plagued with dreams of snakes, hands and green eyes. She had woken sweaty and aching and irritable.

Then, Archie had joined her and her parents for breakfast. He didn't seem to notice her bad mood, or it he did he made no comment on it.

He had kept trying to touch her. Her hair, her arms, her neck...and she had still felt raw from her sleepless night that the contact caused uncomfortable buzzing all across her skin. She had spent the entire breakfast playing defense; not the most relaxing start to her Sunday morning. And then after they had finished eating, he had followed her back up the stairs to her bedroom.

He left her door open a few inches to satisfy her mother's "open door" rule, but then he was all over Betty. He pressed a warm somewhat moist kiss to her mouth then began to trail kisses down her jawline, her neck and clavicle. She pushed her palms against his biceps to force him to back off.

"Archie…" she tried to twist away despite his continued advances, "...Arch, my parents-"

"Are all the way downstairs," he cut her off and slid a hand down from her waist to squeeze the rounded flesh of her rear end. Hard. Bruising. He dragged his lips back up her jawline, "They'll never know a thing."

The breathy whisper was damp and too hot against the shell of her ear. She squirmed in his arms.

"Arch, you know I'm not okay with...with fooling around with my parents in the house."

He pulled her hips tight against his own so she could feel that he was aroused and Betty felt an unwelcome rush of bile rise in the back of her throat. She twisted her body and pushed against his biceps in an attempt to put some physical distance between their bodies. "Please, Archie, please stop. My parents..."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

He didn't sound sorry.

He took a step back away from her, but he didn't release his hold on her waist. "Maybe you could come over to mine tonight and watch a movie. My dad is gonna be out."

Betty could tell from the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes that he was hoping for a repeat of the other night when she had more or less thrown herself at him. He was hoping for that and more. She felt the flush rise to her cheeks and looked away from the desperate look in his eyes.

"I, uh, I can't. I have to work. Ethel needed to switch a shift so I'll be at Pop's tonight."

She did what she could to mask the relief she felt at the serendipitous change to her schedule. It meant that she wouldn't have to spend the night fending off Archie's advances.

Which brought her back to the present where she was bent over to wipe down a counter that didn't need it. Even as she felt the aching in the balls of her feet and the tension in her muscles as she performed the menial task, she couldn't help but be grateful to Ethel for needing the night off. As she ran her rag over the now spotless countertop, it occurred just how much of a hot mess she really was. She dropped the damp cloth and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as she braced her elbows on the counter.

She was. She was a complete and utter mess, a walking disaster. Everything in her life seemed to have gone topsy-turvy and she had no idea how she was going to pull herself back together; get herself back to that quasi happy existence that had been her life before she had been introduced to Jughead Jones.

It felt like her shift ended all too soon because it seemed like no time at all that she was pulling her gray peacoat on over her yellow uniform as she walked out the front door.

She was halfway across the parking lot before she spotted him and stopped in her tracks.

There, perched on the trunk of her car with his forearms braced on his knees, his hands loosely clasped together, and his head hanging forward, was Jughead. He wasn't wearing his beaning and his thick, darks hair hung forward is beautiful disarray. Betty took a deep steadying breath and closed the distance to him. He looked up at her approach and as his face came into view, she fought back the immediate memory of his lips against hers. He looked nervous. She didn't think she had ever seen him nervous before. The effect was...disconcerting.

"Hey, Jug," she said as she came to stop in front of him.

Jughead slid off of the trunk of her car and leaned back against it, "Hi, Betty."

He shook a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, took a deep drag and blew it out before he finally met her eyes. "I wanted to say sorry."

Betty crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lips to suppress the smile that was trying to come through, "Sorry for what?"

Now he looked uncomfortable, like he had never apologized before in his life and Betty found herself overcome with the desire to wrap her arms around him, nuzzle her face into the crook his neck and tell him how wonderful and adorable he was. However, she didn't think he would appreciate that in real life the way he appreciated it in her imagination.

Then, with his face still angled down, he smirked and looked up at her through his unfairly long lashes, "Well…I think I'm supposed to say sorry for kissing you but…that would be a lie. I am, however, sorry that I made you uncomfortable."

God, he was appealing. Betty crossed to leaned against the trunk with him and bumped his hip with her own, "That was a pretty weak apology, Jones."

"Hey, I worked hard on that," he grinned.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he said. He took another pull on his cigarette and they fell into momentary silence. Then, Jughead spoke again. "In all seriousness, you know I'm attracted to you. I had you all to myself and I took advantage of the situation. I know you're in a relationship…but I don't want to lose… I don't… I don't want you to feel like we can't hang out."

Betty's stomach did at least five somersaults at his words. She didn't want to stop hanging out with him either but she wasn't sure how they could continue; not when he was so effortlessly sexy and she had no real notion as to the extent to which her self-control could last. She opened her mouth to respond.

But was immediately interrupted by a quick siren burst and the flashing of red and blue lights. She and Jughead both squinted in the direction of the lights as Sheriff Tom Keller stepped out of his police cruiser.

"Good evening," he said, his hands rested on his gun-belt as he made his way over to them.

Betty smiled, "Hi, Sheriff Keller."

"Hi there, Betty," he greeted, "you're out a little late, aren't you?"

"Oh, I just finished up a shift."

"Right. Of course." Keller's eyes locked on Jughead, "Jones. What are you doing on this side of town?"

"It's a free country," Jughead quipped.

"Little late."

"Just having a conversation."

Keller nodded with a humorless grin. Then he reached out, grabbed Jughead by the shoulder to spin him around and shoved him against the side of Betty's car. "You're familiar with the position, aren't you, Jones?"

"I haven't done anything?" Jughead spat.

"Sheriff Keller, we were just talking!" Betty exclaimed as she took a step back, "He wasn't doing anything wrong!"

"You have no reason to search me!" Jughead growled.

"You're a known gang member, Jones. That's probable cause."

Jughead clenched his jaw so tight he was surprised when he didn't crack a tooth. He was used to getting harassed by the cops, but it pissed him all the way off that Keller was doing it in front of Betty.

"This is bullshit!" he snarled.

"Watch your mouth, son."

"Hey don't call me son," Jughead said over his shoulder, only to be shoved forward again by Keller.

He closed his eyes when he felt Keller reach his waistband. It was less than a second later that Keller discovered the glock tucked into the inside holster at the small of his back.

"What do we have here?" He said and as he sat the gun on the roof of the car.

Jughead watched Betty's eyes widen at the sight of the firearm but he didn't let her distract him at that moment.

"I have a concealed carry permit. My wallet's in my back pocket. You can even cop a feel while you're back there."

Keller moved on and patted his way down Jughead's legs. That was when he found the switchblade tucked into Jughead's boot. "You have a permit for this?"

"Fuck," Jughead said under his breath. His eyes again went to Betty. She looked confused as to why he was more concerned about the knife that he had been about an automatic weapon.

"You do know switchblades or automatic knives are banned within city limits, right?" Keller smiled like a great white shark scenting blood and pulled his cuffs from his belt, "Jughead Jones, you are under arrest for possession of contraband-"

"You've gotta be kidding me! This is a misdemeanor at best!" Jughead snapped as Keller pulled his hands behind his back, "My lawyer will be out in less than an hour!"

"Well, that's an hour of peace of mind for me. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say-"

"Sheriff Keller-" Betty started.

"You should go on home, Betty," Keller said, jerking Jughead by the elbow towards the police cruiser, "you be careful with who you spend your time with."

Betty watched helpless while Keller put a hand on the top of Jughead's skull and shoved him, not gently, into the back of the police car while spouting of the rest of his Miranda Rights.

Author's Note : So, I want to throw this out there. I did not write Betty this way to make her extremely naïve and innocent. While this variation of her character is both of those things, the idea behind her never having touched herself before stems from the idea that she has never been in a position where she has had sexual feelings…until she met Jughead. My Betty in this universe is basically demi-sexual so when she met Jughead, it awakened these feelings that she has never had before which also tacks onto why she feels so confused and messed up inside.

Anyway! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note : And…it continues. What lines is Betty willing to cross for Jughead?

Disclaimer : Don't own em. Like em a lot.

Chapter Nine Song Choice : "I'm On Fire" by Chromatics

Chapter Nine :

It was less than forty-five minutes. Jughead was standing in the holding cell, his arms dangled through the bars and his forehead pressed against them while he waited to be processed when the door to the Sheriff's department burst open. His father barreled in followed closely by the lawyer they kept on retainer, Trula Twyst. Trula had an affection for Jug. He was pretty sure they had screwed when he had been sixteen and she had been twenty-five, but he wasn't entirely sure. He'd been really drunk on the night in question, but she seemed to have had a soft spot for him since. It was particularly pleasing when she backed Sheriff Keller against a wall and went off on him about unlawful search and seizure, profiling and the definition of probable cause.

Jughead didn't try to fight his grin as he watched Keller's facial expression evolve as Trula tore into him. The older man went from smug righteousness to red-faced embarrassment to murderous outrage in the span of about ten seconds. Considering the hassle that the sheriff had caused him in front of Betty, the sight of his frustration made Jughead feel all warm and fuzzy.

With a look a pure harassment, Keller walked over and unlocked the cell that Jughead lounged in. He fixed Jughead with a steely eyed glare and set jaw before he pushed his words between clinched teeth, "You're free to go."

Jughead gave his best shit-eating grin and made sure to bump shoulders with Keller as he sauntered past the officer to exit the cell, "What was that? Fifty-eight minutes? That has to be some kind of record, right?"

"So, I get that you probably have to hold on to the 'contraband,'" he snipped and made quotation marks with his fingers, "but can I have my piece back? You know, since it's registered and I have a permit to legally carry it, not to mention the God-given right as a free citizen of these United States of America."

"You got a smart mouth, Jughead Jones," Keller growled.

"Thanks."

Keller offered Jughead's glock out to him, empty of the magazine, "It's gonna get you into a lot of trouble someday."

"Oh," Jughead snarled back as he took the gun, slipped the mag back into place and tucked it back into the holster at the small of his back, "you mean worse trouble than I get into standing in the parking lot of a diner and having a conversation with a friend?"

"C'mon, boy," his father said through his laughter and shoved Jug toward the door of the station, "let's got outta here before you get yourself arrested again."

"How'd you get here so fast?" Jughead asked FP and Trula once they were through the door and safely out of earshot of the sheriff, "I mean, I hadn't even been given my phone call yet."

"Well," his father grinned as they made it to the parking lot of the station, "this little blonde firecracker burst into the Wrym and pitched a fit. She made a scene until Tallboy dragged my outta the office to deal with her myself."

And of course, there in the dimly lit sheriff station parking lot, wringing her hands nervously as she shuffled back and forth from one foot to the other, stood Betty. His Betty. His sweet, beautiful, wonderful Betty. Jughead actually stopped his forward motion when he spotted her, unnerved by her presence. She still wore her Pop's uniform dress underneath her heavy coat, a chunky strand of blonde hair had come loose from her usually pristine ponytail, and she looked just this side of terrified. Her green eyes were impossibly large as she stared at him and chewed on her bottom lip. FP and Trula stopped walking as well.

"Don't worry, Jones," Trula said, "there's not even going to be a trial. The charge won't stick and the sheriff knows it. He takes this to court, it'll just reveal him for the prejudice bigot that he is and he knows it. FP, this wasn't even an hour of my time. We'll say my retainer covered it and I'll see you next week."

With that, she spun on her designer heel, red hair flying, and strolled over to her neatly parked Lexus. FP watched her slide into her seat and shut the door before he turned back to his only son.

"You know," he said, "Trula's never dropped her fee for any other serpent."

"She likes me," Jughead replied without looking away from where Betty stood staring at him.

"Something blondie there should worry about?"

"Not even a little."

"I had Sweet Pea and Fangs pick up your bike from Pop's," FP explained, then his eyes darted over to where Betty still stood patiently. He couldn't help but note the longing with which she stared at his son. "I, uh, I take it you won't need me to give you a lift home?"

Jughead didn't answer but did flash a smirk and a sideways glance at his father. FP chuckled again, slapped his son on the shoulder and then headed toward his truck with a call over his shoulder, "See you at home, Jug."

Jughead tucked his hands into his pockets and closed the distance to Betty, "You slaying dragons for me now, princess?"

She smiled just a little at that, "Well, I couldn't stand by a do nothing about that injustice, now could I? That…that wasn't fair."

God, she was pretty. He reached up and twirled the loosened strand of her silky hair around his finger and her body swayed toward him, "Can you give me a ride, Cooper?"

Those eyes of hers glistened as she nodded her head and pulled her car keys from her pocket. Without another word, Jug followed her over to her car and they climbed into their respective seats. Betty started up the ignition and Jughead blatantly stared at her profile as she was illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. He wanted to reach over and touch her, to steal some of the warmth of her and keep it for himself.

So, he did.

He touched the loose strand of hair that had held his fascination since he'd first spied it, then rested his hand on her shoulder.

"So, does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?" he asked.

He watched her press her lips into a tight line and could practically see her considering her words before she spoke, "I…I was never _mad _at you, Juggie."

"Oh?" he said, "Then what were you?"

He watched the thoughtful look take on her face again, "I…I was confused."

That was the best way that Betty could think to describe her feelings since Jughead had kissed her. Confused. Then, when she had watched Keller shove him into the back of the police cruiser, she had been overcome with righteous indignation. So, she had done the only thing she could thing and driven to the Whyte Wyrm. She was certain she had broken every speed limit within the Riverdale city limits, but it hadn't mattered at the time. All that had mattered to her had been that she get help for Jughead.

She glanced at him from the side of her eye where he lounged in the passenger seat of her car.

"Confused?" he repeated, "Do…do you want to go somewhere and talk about it?"

She nodded, "That would be good."

"Okay, take the next left."

They drove for another fifteen minutes, Jughead every once in a while speak up and tell her to turn either right or left. He guided her across the railroad tracks to the southside of town, down a long narrow road that eventually turn from broken pavement to gravel and dirt. She parked the car underneath a large tree and turned off the ignition. Jughead unhooked his seatbelt and adjusted his body to face her better.

"So," he eased into the conversation, "I confuse you?"

"You do," Betty said on a breathy little laugh, "you downright baffle me."

"How? Why?"

Betty pressed her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes tight. She tried to think of how she could explain to him that he stirred in her things that she couldn't define, explain, or rationalize.

"When…" she struggled, cursed herself in her head and forced herself to meet his brilliant green gaze. It took her breath. Even in the dark it seemed the moonlight pierced through the windshield at just the right angle to highlight those impeccable eyes, "when you kissed me, Jughead, it…I felt…"

His arm raised and she soon found his large, warm hand against her cheek, "Betty, I don't ever want you to feel like you can't tell me something."

His thumb caressed the apple of her cheek and Betty leaned into the touch, "I don't. I just don't know how to say it, exactly."

"Anyway you like," he said, "there's no shame between us, Betty."

"You mean that?"

His dark brows drew together and he grinned, "Of course, I do. Why wouldn't I?"

She looked down, "I've never felt the way I felt when you kissed me."

Jughead took a deep breath through his nose and his fingers curved around to the back of her neck, "And how did you feel?"

"Warm all over."

He leaned closed, "In a good way?"

"Yes," Betty breathed and Jughead closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers again.

Betty kissed him back. She could not stop herself if she had wanted to and she did not want to. He dragged his lips down along her jawline and nipped gently at the sensitive skin just below her ear. "Tell me, Betty," he whispered against her ear, "when you felt warm all over, did you mean between your legs?"

"Jug…"

"Tell me!" he demanded, then softened it to the sweetest plea, "Please. Please, Betty, tell me."

"Yes."

"Did you touch yourself, Betty?"

A strangled noise escaped Betty's throat as Jughead settled his hand onto her flat stomach and caused it to flutter. He trailed his kisses and licks down her neck. He had managed to unbuckle her seatbelt and unbutton her coat at some point. She hadn't noticed.

"Did you?" he asked and trailed his fingertips over her clavicle, "Did you touch yourself and think of me?"

"Yes," she breathed and pushed her fingers into his soft, dark hair.

He leaned away and looked at her. He pressed his thumb against her bottom lip, "Did you cum for me?"

Betty felt her brow furrow as the frustration from the previous night rushed back over her. She remembered that feeling of reaching for some elusive thing. She had reached and reached and reached and just hadn't been able to grasp it.

"Oh, baby," Jug whispered as he comprehended the look of almost annoyance, "is my princess frustrated?"

"I…I don't…" Once again, she couldn't seem to find the words that she needed to express herself to him.

Jughead wanted to soothe her, tell her that she didn't need words, he understood. He always understood her.

"You need me to take care of you?" he asked and ran his hand along her golden ponytail.

He moved his hand away from her quivering belly down to her knee. He pushed the skirt of her uniform out of the way and traced his fingers up along the inside of her thigh. He reveled at the impossible softness of that skin. Those strong, tone legs of hers clamped tight on his hand and halted any upward motion. She pushed against his shoulder to lean him away from her.

"Jug… we can't…we shouldn't…" she said, but her eyes were wide and dilated and bright.

"Why?" Jughead asked and pressed another kiss to her jaw.

She leaned into his attentions, "You know why."

"I know," he replied as he rested his forehead against her shoulder, "you have a boyfriend. But I'm gonna be honest with you, Betty, I don't care. I couldn't care less if I tried. Keep him," as he continued his speech, he redoubled his efforts to trail love her with his mouth. He trailed his lips along her neck, her jaw, her cheeks, "I don't care about him, I don't care about titles or labels or any of that shit. What I care about is you. The only label I'm interested in is lover. I want to be your lover, Betty."

"Oh, God, Jug," Betty sighed as she leaned her head back to give him better access to her neck and dug her fingers into his scalp.

"Let me make you feel good, baby," he said and attacked her mouth.

Betty's lips parted for him instantly and he plunged his tongue inside, unable to restrain himself in his need to conquer her in depth. He needed more of her, all of her. She had somehow become as essential to him as the blood flowing through his veins. It was a sensation that he wasn't used to, this requisite longing for another person, a specific person. He felt that if he could keep his hands on Betty Cooper for the rest of his life, everything else in the world would simply fall into place.

The grip of her thighs on his hand slackened and her legs fell open for him. Jug didn't hesitate. He slid his hand up that sweet skin to cup her center where it was warm and damp. So much heat and so fucking damp.

"Fuck, baby," he whispered against her lips, "you're so wet."

Betty's breath hitched and her eyelids fluttered up at him, "Is that wrong?"

"God, no!" Jug said and pushed what he knew was a desperate kiss to her mouth, "No! You're amazing. You're gonna make me lose it."

In as fast a movement as he could muster, he pulled his hand away from her to reach across and pull the lever on her seat to recline it. Once Betty was laid back, Jughead ignored the discomfort of the center console and put as much of his body overtop of her as he could. He braced one elbow by her head to stroke her hair and returned his other hand to the utopia between her legs.

"Relax," he murmured, "I'm gonna take such good care of you, baby. You're gonna feel sensitive and wanna pull away. When that happens, push against me instead, okay?"

Betty stared into his eyes and nodded. At her consent, Jughead slid his hand beneath the waistband of her lace panties and into the soaking folds of her sex. His own jeans had grown uncorfortable tight around his throbbing erection, but he refused to acknowledge the damned thing. He tunneled all of his attention on Betty; he needed to make this good for Betty.

Betty was pretty certain she was dying. Her heart was beating so fast and she couldn't seem to draw enough air into her lungs, she was going to have a heart attack or suffocate. But dear heaven, this was the way she wanted to go!

Jughead hovered over her, kissed her, did things with that incredible mouth of his and then touched her in all the ways that she had been unable to touch herself. His wonderful fingers found the sensitive button of her clit at once and rubbed tight little circles of the most glorious friction right around it. Betty would have been embarrassed by the whimper that escaped her throat except the noise seemed to do something fantastic to Jughead. He growled and deepened his kiss. He slid those fingers down and pressed one inside of her, curled it up and pressed the pad of his thumb into her clit.

Betty gasped against his mouth.

"God, you're tight," he breathed, his mouth hot against her neck, "you're tight and responsive and fucking made for me, I swear."

"Juggie…" she whined as she began to feel that intangible pressure build up in her belly as he pumped his finger in and out while simultaneously he swiped his thumb in circles over her clit. Betty sank her teeth into the plump flesh of his pouting bottom lip and tugged. This elicited another groan from Jughead and he inserted a second finger into her core.

The movement caused Betty to gulp involuntarily at air. She arched her back and bore down against his invading digits. With his free, Jug reached down and yanked at the top of her uniform, the snaps gave willingly and exposed her lace covered breasts to the attention of his hungry mouth. She felt a tingling at the base of her spine and she started feeling that distinct 'too much' sensation. She pushed at Jug's shoulders and pulled her pelvis back just slightly in an effort to get away.

"No, baby, push into me. Work with me, harder. Let go for me."

It took a little but of focus on her part, but she did what he ordered and ground hips downward against his hand.

The reward was indescribable.

The pressure built and built and built. Jughead continued to mutter wonderful words of endearment and encouragement, his breath hot against her chest, and that potentially did even more to arouse her than his hands. His scraped her teeth across her nipple through the lace of her bra and then bit down oh-so gently, cradled the base of her skull in his free hand. And then it felt like everything inside of her shattered into ten million pieces and then melted back together like golden honey.

Her skin was oversensitive and damp with sweat, she couldn't see beyond the stars in her eyes and her breaths were short and uneven as she tried to calm her racing heart.

"My, God," Jug said, pressing his own moist brow to hers, "you are everything."

Betty slid her hands into his hair and kissed him again. She didn't think she would ever grow tired of his mouth. She couldn't believe she was allowed to taste it. From the way he spoke, she was allowed to taste him whenever she wanted. In the back of her mind, self-reproach lingered in a bubble and waited to be set free. As though he sensed this, Jughead leaned back the slightest bit to look her in her eyes.

"Okay, princess," he said, "you're gonna wanna let yourself spiral into some form of guilt over this. You're not allowed to. This was something for you. For us. Fuck labels and titles and all of that bullshit. This was about you and me and you're not allowed to feel shame for it. Understand?"

Betty wanted to melt into him, to be a part of his makeup. Could she let herself have this? Could she have a lover outside of her realm of approved social status quo? He was beautiful, inside and out, and she couldn't imagine ever being ashamed of him…but at the same time she knew her parents, as wonderful as they were, would not understand their daughter's connection with him.

But she wouldn't give him up. She didn't think she could if she wanted to, and she didn't want to.

She pressed into Jughead's shoulder, "What are we gonna do, Juggie?"

"Hey," Jughead replied as her brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "we don't have to do anything right now, tonight, okay? This is not something I want you to pressure yourself over. I'm here. I'm yours. In whatever capacity you want me. I want you to be mine, but that's your call, princess. But I'm not going anywhere."

Author's Note : Okay…so that happened. Thoughts? How do y'all feel about Jughead now? He's a big ole softie for Betty! Y'all know the drama is coming, but maybe there'll be a little bit more fun times before then. Of course, actions always have consequences. That's just science right there.

Anyway! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note : Sorry this took so long but I hope you enjoy this installment! A night of fun! I don't have a beta so I apologize for any errors. I'm only human but I do try!

Disclaimer : Don't own em. Like em a lot.

Chapter Ten Song Choice : "Blue Eyes Blind" by ZZ Ward

Chapter Ten :

Long graceful fingers; midnight dark strands of hair that fell into green eyes, serpent eyes. Soft lips that were contrasted with sharp teeth. The all-encompassing, overwhelming pleasure that he had managed to bring with the slightest touch. Even sitting in a booth at Pop's, Betty's heart raced at the memories. Her face flushed and her skin heated and she leaned forward in her seat to take a long drink of her strawberry milkshake in attempt to cool herself down.

"Are you okay, B?" Veronica asked from her position at Betty's side.

"What?" Betty asked a little too quickly, a little too guilty, "Yes! Fine! Of course!"

Cheryl, who sat across from her with her arms crossed beneath her chest, arched a single, perfect red eyebrow at her and pressed her red painted lips into a tight line before she said, "Can I just point something out?"

"I wish you wouldn't," Betty responded.

"It is once again Friday night," Cheryl went on as though Betty hadn't spoken, "and you are off work and _once again _sitting here with us while your troglodyte boyfriend is out with the other hulking cavemen doing God knows what or where _instead _of spending his time with his smokeshow of a girlfriend as he _should be doing_."

"Cher," Veronica chided.

"It's not like I'm telling her something she doesn't already know!"

"No! It's just that you seem to relish in taking every opportunity you can to-"

"She's right," Betty interrupted so softly that the other two girls almost didn't hear her. Almost.

"Wait? What?" Veronica asked as her head snapped in Betty's direction.

"Yeah, what? Cheryl repeated the question in equal surprise.

"I said you're right, Cher. Just last week, Archie bit my head off because I had to work when he wanted to hang out. Now, I have the night off but he's too busy because he made plans with _the boys_. It's-"

"Insulting," Cheryl snapped, not even trying to hide how into Betty's rant she was.

"Hypocritical," Veronica tacked on for good measure.

"Yes," Betty nodded with a smile, "on both counts. I'm sorry it took me so long but…Archie is kind of a dick!"

Veronica blinked in surprise, her plum colored lips formed a perfect little "O" of shock. Cheryl sat back in her seat with an audible gasp, one red-nailed hand fluttered to her chest as though to still her heart.

Betty had to bite back a smile at that. Cheryl was not one to ever let herself be caught off-guard. The sight of it was somewhat amusing. It amused Betty, truly, but is also disheartened her just the smallest bit when she realized that her friends had grown so accustomed to her stalwart defense of Archie's deplorable treatment of her, that a response to that treatment that wasn't acquiescence was enough to throw the usually unflappable Cheryl Blossom completely off kilter.

She had, at some point in her life, become a doormat.

And her friends knew it.

She was humiliated.

But she tramped those feelings down deep into her stomach. Tonight, she would stop being a doormat and she would _stop _being embarrassed. And she knew just how to accomplish that.

Betty brought her palms down hard on the tabletop, "Let's go out! The three of us!"

"Ooh!" Cheryl exclaimed in unveiled glee as she rubbed her hands together, "I am so feeling this assertive Betty persona you have going! Where shall we go, my sweet and newly adventurous cousin?"

Neither of her friends had expected the answer that Betty delivered readily and without hesitation, "The Whyte Wyrm."

Silence. Three heartbeats. Two sets of eyes blinked blankly back at her.

Then…

"That Southside Serpent Slumlair? No," Cheryl hissed.

"But-"

Veronica held up a hand, "Does this have anything to do with a certain dark-haired, green-eyed, gang land heir apparent?"

Betty knew that she was blushing, but even that couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face at even the idea of Jughead.

"Okay," Cheryl said with obvious reluctance, "I didn't think of him. But I still say no."

"We'd be perfectly safe there, you know," Betty said, "Jughead, he—he wouldn't let anything bad happen to us."

Cheryl started to open her mouth to protest again and because Betty was a master at understanding her friends, she could read their trepidation. She knew that to get her way, she'd have to pull out all of the stops. She'd need to use her big, game changing hail mary pass, the mother of all bargaining chips in her arsenal.

"I'll let the two of you pick out my outfit!"

Cheryl closed her mouth.

Both her and Veronica's eyes lit up brighter that Christmas lights in Times Square.

"In that case-"

"Wait!" Veronica snapped and cut Cheryl off as she turned those dark, shrewd eyes on Betty who spared a damning thought to Hiram Lodge for passing his keen ability to catch the fine print of anything on to his daughter, "Do we have complete control?"

Dammit.

Cheryl gave a little gasp as though she hadn't even considered that her sweet cousin would try to betray her in such a way.

Betty narrowed her gaze, "I get three vetos."

"One."

"Two."

"DEAL!" Both girls cried.

And that was how Betty found herself seated in the back of Veronica's towncar, clad in a black miniskirt that was shorter than _anything _in her own closet and a hot pink cropped sweater with little black hearts all over it. She thanked the stars that she had demanded her veto privilege because it had saved her from the red leather mini that Cheryl had tried to shove her into. It was belt. Not a skirt. No one would ever convince her otherwise.

Jughead grinned as he leaned back against the wall and watched as Sweet Pea popped off several rounds of the M-4 Colt in the makeshift gun range they had created in the basement of the Wyrm. A few doors down, a handful of serpents supervised by Toni and Fangs were cleaning and snapping like weapons together for repacking.

The gunfire in the long narrow room they had constructed for this specific purpose of testing stopped and Sweet Pea let out a loud WHOOP. He pulled out his earplugs, slid the safety glasses from his nose and pulled open the door.

"Man," he said, his smiled stretched from ear to ear, "This is the best part of this job!"

"How'd she do?" Jughead asked as he returned the smile to his friend and brother.

"This is damn fine machine," Sweet Pea replied and held the barrel up toward the ceiling so he could gaze almost lovingly at the rifle, "You wanna give her a go?"

"Nah," Jug said, "I'm good. I took a couple of test rounds this morning."

The door burst open without ceremony or even a knock and in a flash, Sweet Pea shouldered the rifle and aimed. Jughead too reached to the small of his back, his hand curled around the handle of the ever-present piece he holstered there.

A scrawny prospect, no more than fifteen years old, clad in a leather cut that swallowed his thin body, skittered to a halt in front of them. He held his hands up and his ears turned red even as the rest of his color drained from his face.

Sweet Pea immediately redirected the business end of the rifle down toward the ground. He let a shaking breath, then, once he was collected, glared at the kid, "What the actual fuck, Haggerty? Are you trying to get yourself shot in the fucking head?"

"I-I-I'm sorry, Pea!" the kid stuttered.

Jughead stepped into front of Sweet Pea and fixed the young man with a cold, green gaze, "Haggerty, was the red light on at the door?"

"Yes, sir."

"What does the red light mean?" Jughead asked like an impatient teacher.

"It…uh…it means…"

"Spit it out, Haggerty!"

"It means the range is hot."

"Exactly," Jughead spat, "so when the range is hot, you think maybe it isn't a good idea to come tearing in like a bat out of hell? Have some goddam self preservation, man!"

"I'm sorry, Jug. I'm so sorry. But…" his gaze darted away and then came back, "I have a message for you."

"Is this message so important that you couldn't wait for us to get done in here?"

"She asked for you, sir… and she's… I mean… I figured you'd wanna know she was here."

Jughead paused for a beat, but just a beat. "Who is _she,_ Haggerty?"

"Blonde. Fucking gorgeous, sir. Legs for miles."

Jughead felt the smile cross his face. Without so much as another word, he tossed one grin to Sweet Pea and headed for the door.

For the life of her, Betty couldn't figure out why she was so nervous. Would Jughead be mad at her for just showing up like this? Archie never really liked it when she'd just show up to surprise him. He always said he preferred to have things planned out. Was Jughead like that, too? He didn't seem to be. He seemed more the spontaneous type, but she didn't really want to upset him.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Maybe she should grab V and Cher and make a break for it while they still had time.

"My, God, Betty Cooper," his deep, rasping voice purred by her ear as he slid his body close by her side to lean against the bar with her, "You're trying to kill me in that skirt, aren't you?"

She turned and blinked wide eyes up at him, struggled to find her breath, "Do you like it?"

"I like you," he said simply and his eyes traveled a slow, deliberate trail down the length of her body and back up again. A move that called to mind the first night they had met. He had never hidden his desire for her now that she thought about it. He'd always been very open with his attraction. She really didn't have anything to be nervous about in that regard. Not with him. Not ever.

Jughead's eyes traveled over her should to where she knew Veronica and Cheryl stood, "Good evening, ladies," he said on a smirk, "First round is on me, tonight."

"Royalty _and _a gentleman?" Veronica teased with a quirked half smile.

Cheryl leaned forward slightly, "Indeed, V. We might have to keep this one."

"He does seem to be quite charming," Veronica went on.

"Oh," Jughead said and lit up a cigarette, "You have no idea."

Betty didn't want to sit and trade quips with Jughead and her friends at that moment. That wasn't what she came to the Wyrm for. That wasn't why she let Veronica put her into the world's tiniest skirt, that wasn't why she wore her hair down. She slammed the Vodka and cranberry cocktail that she had ordered and hopped off of her barstool. She turned and slid her body between Jughead's spread thighs. He raised one beautiful dark eyebrow and God she loved it when he did that.

"I want to dance," she said.

"By all means," he replied and took a pull from his cigarette. His eyes danced as he watched her, delight and amusement painted every one of his features. He was enjoying her company. The confidence that flooded through her body at the knowledge, that certainty was better than any drink or drug that she could possibly imagine. Surely, there was no artificial substance on the planet that could match the high she felt when Jughead Jones looked at her like she was the only girl in the room.

"I want to dance with _you,_" she specified.

"I don't really dance, princess."

Again, with the self-assurance that came with the knowledge that this man wanted her, Betty took his hand and tugged him off of the barstool, "You do tonight."

He didn't resist. He grinned, dropped his cigarette into an ashtray on the bartop, grabbed to neck of his beer bottle and let her lead him out to the dance floor where a handful of people were already grinding on each other.

Veronica and Cheryl both swiveled on their stools to keep the pair in their sights.

"Do you see what I was talking about?" Veronica asked.

"Holy crap, V," Cherly responded, "He looks at her like-"

"Like she's a gourmet buffet and someone just handed him a knife and bib."

"Yeah," Cheryl nodded, "only I don't think he needs a bib. He doesn't seem the type to mind getting a little dirty."

Their eyes stuck to Betty. They watched as she spun around, her eyes bright with laughter. She pulled Jughead to her and dipped down low, swaying her hips in time to the beat of the music. Jughead caught her by the waist and pulled her against him, her back tight to his chest. He leaned forward and said something against her ear that made Betty laugh.

Veronica zeroed in on Jughead's hands. One was locked securely around Betty's waist, the tips of his fingers dipped just beneath the band of her skirt. The other caressed up and down her side, squeezed every so often at her ribcage. He pressed his cheek against the length of Betty's neck like a needy cat. Betty didn't like public displays of affection. She didn't enjoy being touched and fondled in front of people. It made her self-conscious and uncomfortable. Veronica was readying herself to swoop in and save her from that awkwardness when Betty all of the sudden spun in Jughead's embrace, threw her arms around his neck and dragged her teeth against his throat before she nipped openly at the underside of his jaw.

"Holy shit," Veronica breathed.

"Do you see what I see?" Cheryl said, her own equal shock evident in her voice, "I've never seen Betty look this…carefree."

"She looks happy." Veronica stated.

And she did. For once, their blonde friends' shoulders weren't tight and against her ears from being so high-strung. Rather her limbs were loose and swaying, her smile was bright and open, her body language was relaxed and confident…like she was finally at peace with who she was, like she was comfortable in her own skin.

"She's gonna cheat on Archie," Cheryl, stated in her blunt fashion.

"Look at her Cher," Veronica said and pointed her finger, "she _is _cheating on Archie. And you know what? I'm for it."

Cheryl grinned like the Cheshire Cat she was at heart, "We're in agreement there. The serpent prince makes our sweet Betty smile like that, I say hashtag endgame."

"Shall we?"

"Oh, absolutely!"

And with that, two girls headed to the dance floor to join the pair.

Betty didn't know how much time had passed. She and Jughead were joined on the dance floor first by Veronica and Cheryl and then by Sweet Pea, Fangs and Toni. No one really partnered off once they were all together. They just sort of… danced around each other. Sweet Pea pulled her into a dip at the same time Jughead twirled Veronica under his arm while Cheryl and Fangs hoisted Toni into the air. There was laughter and sweat and chaos and endless bottles of beer that was passed from person to person.

When Betty finally found herself back in Jughead's arms, she didn't care who was watching or who saw. All she cared about was the feeling a freedom and rebellion that he had instilled in her from the moment their eyes had met. She wanted to kiss him right there in the middle of the dance floor, in the midst of their collective friends, where anyone and everyone could see.

She was about to do just that when a loud crash rang out through the bar. Jughead's gaze snapped to the entrance behind her and the music was cut off with startling abruptness.

"Hey there, Jonesy!" a somewhat high pitched, gruff male voice called.

"Betty," Jughead murmured under his breath, "I need you to keep looking at me. Do not look over your shoulder, do you understand?"

Betty nodded.

"That goes for you two as well," he said to Veronica and Cheryl who had been ushered to his side by his crew, "stare at the back of the bar. Do _not _turn toward the entrance."

"Okay," Veronica said, and grabbed hold of Cheryl's hand. They both looked terrified.

"Fangs," Jughead continued, completely calm and accustomed to doling out orders on the fly, "Get Haggerty. I want him at my side five minutes ago."

In a snap, Fangs was gone.

"What!?" Called the voice, "No welcome? Not even a 'hi, how ya doing?' Your manners need work, Jones."

"Yours aren't exactly GQ material there, Malachi," Jughead answered back, his voice colder than Betty had ever heard it before, "I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of my bar."

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"I believe my exact words were, 'if you show you guyliner round here again, I'll carve your eyes out with paring knife and then break your legs."

Betty tensed at the violent words. Jughead didn't try to soothe her.

"Yeah, and I respect that, I really do. But that was before you and yours poached my business! Now, we need to have words. Now call these dogs off of me so we can talk like men."

Betty could only deduce that the interloper was being held at bay by some of Jughead's men. The thin kid that Betty had met when they'd first arrived at the bar was suddenly at Jughead's side.

"Haggerty, you take these three out the back of the bar and get them home. You do not speak to anyone. You do not look at anyone. You do not stop. You take them home, make sure they are safe and you come back and report directly to me. Understood?"

"Yes, boss," Haggerty said.

Jughead's hand tightened on Betty's hip before he said, "Haggerty, if anything happens to her, I will personally pull out all of your teeth and feed them to you."

"Yes, sir," the kid said.

"I'll text you later, okay?" he asked, and Betty's heart broke because he sounded so unsure. It was as though he thought this would destroy everything he had been working for with her.

Desperate to assure him, she reached down and squeezed his hand, "You'd better. Be safe, Juggie," she said.

Haggerty took her by the elbow and start to herd her, Cheryl and Veronica toward the back exit of the bar. They followed Jughead's instructions to the letter. They didn't stop for anyone and focused only on their objective. Even as the distance between them increased, Betty honed in on Jughead's voice as he began a running dialogue with the party crasher that had ruined the perfectly lovely night she had been sharing with him.

And then, as they reached the exit, Cheryl and Veronica disappeared through the doorway. But Betty, as though she weren't in control of her own body, looked over her shoulder.

And locked the heavily kohl-lined gaze of the man that could only be Malachi.

And his smile was wide and terrifying when he looked back at her.

Author's Note: And…uh-oh? I don't know what else to say to that!

Let me know what you think!


End file.
